Rock and Roll
by C-Unit
Summary: "Music was supposed to be sweet and innocent and white and all-American back then. But it wasn't. It was a cheerleader with a switchblade, and it was amazing." The end-of-year musical is coming up, and Tori has to come up with something fresh and unlike anything Hollywood Arts has ever seen. Will she follow her heart, and her new-found inspiration? Eventual JORI, minor CABBIE.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N - Yep, my first Victorious fic. I don't really like author's notes, so there won't be many of these. Song titles and stuff'll happen at the bottom of chapters. Rated M because of cussin', drinkin', sexin', etc.**

**JADE**

This is the time of the day I love best.

I snuck out of Beck's house early in the morning, before anyone woke up. His mom would flip if she found out that I stayed the night. Not that we really do anything bad - at least not as frequently as we used to, anyways - but I guess she has her principles when we don't have ours. That's fine though. I tiptoed out of Beck's room, leaving him lightly snoring in a white shirt and my side of the bed empty.

My breath steams in the air, hangs over my head. The early morning sun rises up over the Hollywood Hills. I love it. It's my favourite thing in the world. For this little moment in time, Hollywood is quiet. I don't have to put up with people. I can be as small as I want to be, or as infinite as I'd like to be one day. I'm alone with my thoughts as I head back home.

It's a quick walk down Sunset Boulevard from Beck's back to my house. There's the leftovers of the night before. Cigarette butts and that dirty city smell. A whole world has passed by, and I briefly wonder where I fit in. Bands in dirty basements and everyone trying to make it big. From your waiter to your dentist, everyone tried to be the biggest star they possibly could be.

It's a lot of pressure to try and ignore. Just because we all go to Hollywood Arts doesn't mean me and everyone else will ever make it. We took a gamble and we might end up ground in the machinery of the entertainment business.

"Pretty lady, any spare change?" asks a shambling, piss-stained homeless woman who stumbles near me. I shake my head and give her a glare, and she shrinks away into the night. Like she was almost perfectly timed to prove my point. She probably had one bit part and then fell in debt and then was dropped by her agent and so on, and so on, and so on.

Maybe it's me, but the only advantage we have at Hollywood Arts is belief. The magnitude of unbroken necessity to succeed. From Beck to Burf, Sinjin to - ugh - Tori, we all think we'll make it. It's kind of endearing in a perverse way. We'll probably end up working behind the counter at Fatty Burger, but we'll always have our beliefs.

What a stupid little conflicted way to start the day.


	2. Chapter 2

**TORI**

Today's the day. It's on everyone's lips in Sikowitz' class. Back in real high schools and not Hollywood Arts, this sort of energy and anticipation's reserved for stuff like the prom or prome or whatever. But not this.

Sikowitz enters the class in his usual loud, brash way. It's already filled with the various kids. Jade and Beck canoodling in the back, Andre and Robbie, Sinjin and Cat and Burf. Everybody, even the kids who just kind of react or whatever. There's a comfort in knowing we haven't changed much, that we're still friends. Jade might not admit that sort of thing, but whatever, that's her deal.

"No-one's skipping today!" Sikowitz proclaims. "Bet I know why!" He grins wickedly, claps his hands together, looks like an evil-super-villain-artist guy.

"Why?" Cat asks with her wide eyes and dreamy, prolonged enunciation. Everyone ignores her.

"Because it's time to announce…" he trails off for effect. Everyone leans forward in their seats, holding their breath. "…the end of year play."

There's a big exhale and excited nattering from all the students. Everyone's smiling and Cat's cooing and even dark-as-night Jade West is looking a little peppier. She's wearing that trademark smirk and raised eyebrow.

"Who can tell me what this project is all about?" Sikowitz asks. "Remember that exposition exercise we did last week? Sort of like that, try and work that in, if you can." He picks Robbie who raises his hand and gesticulates wildly.

"All the seniors put on a massive end-of-year production," he says, running his hand through the thick curls of his hair. "It has to have singing and dancing in it, and it's worth almost all of our grade and our parents come and there's cake."

"Pie too?" Cat asks, like it's the most important thing in the world. Robbie nods and she giggles. Robbie goes for a high-five, but she's already turned around and ignoring him.

"Yes, yes. Excellent. Everyone caught up?" Sikowitz asks. Everyone replies in the positive except for Cat but he ignores it. He just sighs and pulls out a hat filled with pieces of brightly-coloured paper. It just appears from somewhere within his voluminous scarf.

"You have the big play to do at the end of the year, in, oh, lemme see here," he says, looking at his watch. "About two and a half months. I pick the writer-director from this hat. It's their show to put on. The rest of you audition for your roles and sign up for your technical jobs. Blah blah blibbity blah, you get it," Sikowitz says.

"What are you going to do, then?" Jade calls out from the back. "Get paid to do nothing?"

"Ah, Jade. No paycheck will ever be large enough to compensate me for teaching your gank butt over the past four years," Sikowitz says. He smiles wide at her glare. "I'll be supervising, consulting, being the string-puller behind-the-scenes."

He smiles and jams his hand deep into the hat, rifling around in the papers until he yanks a small orange one out. The entire class holds it's breath, again.

"Strange how fate and destiny can all be traced to a single slip of paper. How with one quick hand, I've changed your lives. How fickle. Shakespeare once wrote…" Sikowitz starts.

"Get the hell on with it!" Jade calls out. I can't help but agree with her. I try to give her a thumbs up but she just ignores it, making a point of turning her head and rolling her eyes. Beck frowns at her but doesn't stop it. Sikowitz looks downtrodden at his unfinished quote, but looks at the paper anyway.

"Tori Vega. Your director this year is Tori Vega," he says.

It's like the room goes dim. I'm excited, unsure, terrified, warm, and feeling great all at once. Andre and Robbie and Cat are clapping the loudest. People are once again chatting amongst themselves about how this play might go.

"Yaaaay!" Cat calls out.

"Wow, that's…wow," is all I can say.

"Go for it, Tori," Beck calls out. Jade slaps his chest with the back of her hand, but offers a sly nod in my direction.

* * *

After class finishes, Sikowitz takes me aside. While sucking hard on a coconut to get all the flavour out - I hope - he gives me the details about what I'm supposed to do. He tells me that I have to work as hard and as fast as possible because it's "not like TV", and putting on a full production is ridiculous, busy, tough work that doesn't just happen overnight . He gives me format notes and what to include in terms of songs and how long the play is supposed to be. And then he pats me on the back, claps his hands together, and disappears into the halls of the school.

I heard from Jade and Cat that him and some kid from out of town might have a secret restaurant in the basement. Since it's Cat that believes it, and Jade who confirms it, I take that knowledge with a whole lot of scepticism.

But that's beside the point! I have a script to write! I'm the most important girl in Hollywood Arts right now, and I have work to do. Sitting at the usual table at the Asphalt Café, I hem and haw over my brand-new script notes and pointedly ignore my tacos. Andre and Cat plop down next to me, both with salads, although Cat's is adorned with candy pieces.

"Hi hi!" she coos out before eating. I just nod and look back to my paper. Robbie and Rex take up another spot at the table.

"Damn girl, you hard at work already?" Andre asks. "Take it easy, it's not due for a little while yet, and Sikowitz is terrible with deadlines!"

"I heard he spent eleven months in the womb he's that bad with deadlines," Robbie says to a total lack of laughs.

"Your jokes are terrible, man," Rex adds. I ignore him.

"This is the hard part," I complain, motioning to the papers and notes in front of me. "Once this is done, everything else just falls into place. Lighting, sound, all of that. That's easy once you have a solid script."

Beck and Jade hover over to the table, with Beck sitting next to Robbie and Jade looking like she's better than us by standing behind him.

"Oh my stars," she starts, imitating some southern belle that I guess is supposed to be me.

"I don't talk like that!" I huff at her. She doesn't stop.

"_Oh my many, many stars!_ I do say, what a quandary I've gotten myself into! Pretty little me at the center of the universe again! What's a simple cowgirl to do?"

"I'm not simple!" Jade flicks her face from flighty to snarling smirk in a moment.

"But you agree you're the center of the universe?"

She flummoxes me, so I just huff in anger and go back to my notes. I notice in my periphery that she sits in Beck's lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. He grunts.

"Babe, when did you get so heavy?" he asks. I try not to smile as Cat gasps in shock . Andre and Robbie duck their heads in silence and focus on their food. It's like the whole universe goes silent for a tiny, tiny, tiny moment.

"OH," Jade says with furious, and the rest of lunch passes by in the same annoyed and fight-night banter it always does. There's a comfort in that, a comfort I hold on to that leaves me smiling as lunch ends, a comfort that I'll forever be used to and never be taken from. It wraps me like a warm blanket, and I hum down the hallways.


	3. Chapter 3

**JADE**

After school, I'm taking my stuff out of my locker. Homework I'll probably ignore tonight. Beck leans against the wall of lockers next to me. Posing, always posing. It was cute at first but holy-moly is it kind of annoying now. All the girls at Hollywood Arts love that stupid pose. It's like his James Dean sexy pose and they'd make posters of it if they could.

I guess you could say I'm just a little touch annoyed for no reason, but that's the usual, right? School is exhausting, gimme a break.

"So, what do you think Tori's play'll be about?" Beck drawls. Ugh, you can't be serious.

"Vega _is _the center of the universe, isn't she?" I ask sarcastically, but Beck keeps his usual poker face as I slam my locker shut and we walk side-by-side in the hall towards the front door. I could rip into him about the whole weight comment at lunch, but I choose to ignore it and not pick at the scabs that dot our various arguments and relationship moments.

"You know that's not true," he says after a moment or two, but he sounds unsure, and he quickly adds on a "And you know I don't think about that kind of thing."

"Then why do you care?" I can't hide the jealousy in my voice, but it's just a bad habit. I'd like to think that, anyways.

"I'm just wondering out loud," he says. But I give him the look I usually give where it looks like I might just kill him and not even care about the jail time. "Well, I want to be the lead. Obviously." He tacks it on, just to be on the safe side.

"Obviously," I say. One night he confided to me that he just wanted to be a leading man, all the time, no matter what it took. He liked the responsibility, or whatever.

We walk out of the school and the mid-afternoon sun blinds us for a moment before our eyes settle. I briefly think about how I'm not really built for California. Beck, Cat, and the Vega Sisters are perfectly tanned and have their caramel skin and blah blah blah, but I'll burn up if I spend even a little bit of time out in the sun's rays. Oh well oh well oh well that's the way life goes. At least with my pale skin and brown hair I don't look like every actress wannabe bitch in this town. Same goes for the all natural curves I got in Grade 8. I believe my mom called it "The Big Boom" and I can't believe I just remembered that.

"Yeah, but everyone wants the lead. It's the last big play," I say. "Competition will be super-tight." Beck looks nervous, which he hasn't done in a long, long time. It's off-putting to say the least, and my immediate notion is to placate his inherent vanity. "But then there's Sinjin and Burf and Shapiro too, so maybe competition isn't as tight as you think."

"But…" he starts, but I cut him off with a raised finger. I lower my hand and shove it in his as we walk over to his car, intertwining our fingers like couples are supposed to do.

"Babe, just give Vega a hair flip and your cute little smile and she turns to a blob." I smile at him as he opens the door to his Mustang convertible and lets me in the passenger side. "I don't know why I brought it up. You'll kill it."

He gets in the driver's seat and revs the engine, and I feel the vibrations under my legs and through my stomach as the car lurches to life. He's had this car as long as he's been driving, a hand-me-down from his dad, and I remember the day he pulled up in front of my house with it. Rattling the neighbourhood windows with the subwoofer's thump-thump-thump and thinning my mom's lips to a worried look of consternation.

Weird how things work out. The way the hottest boy in school asked me out and it's been almost three years of on-and-off bickering and fighting and minor break-ups and squabbles, marked with some unbearably beautiful bright spots and smiles since that day. But we have our beliefs and our convictions, and right now mine are with Beck.

But sometimes they aren't. And again I'm conflicted. I'm watching the streets go by, watching L.A. whiz past my eyes. I'm far away, thinking, thinking, thinking. Biting my lip and letting my mind go on and on.

Beck and I are great, when we allow ourselves to be great. When we're not, we're terrible. All that horrible teen drama crap cranked up to 11. Maybe that's what relationships are about as you get older. The push and pull and compromise and anger and fighting and crying and seething balancing out the sheer flames of passion and love. But I can't deal with that. I think of all the divorces in the world and how feelings can just fade. I can't help but compare it to what I have with Beck.

We seem to live on conflict. There's no catharsis, no end to it. Constant civil war like you see on the news. But I've never really dated anyone else so it just feels normal. I think. I don't know. I like scissors and hard music and I'm best friends with Cat Valentine and if that's who I am, then maybe I'm not normal at all or my normal is skewed and stupid as hell.

"What are you thinking about?" Beck asks, moving his hand from the gearshift to my knee. At least he knows when I'm upset about something. Or maybe he just can't stand silence. I watch palm trees curve away as he takes the off ramp and heads into the upscale neighbourhood he lives in.

"Maybe I want the lead in the play too," I tell him, only half-lying because shit-hell-yeah I wanna be the lead. He smiles that wide Beck smile he's famous for.

"That whole power-couple thing," he says. "Like Brangelina or whatever. Sharing screen time and romance." He waggles his eyebrows.

"Yeah, just like that," I sarcastically intone. He laughs.

"I know, I know. It's just a school play. Not movies or whatever. But it would be nice to act with you. We don't do it that much anymore." He pats my leg and smiles again. "Too many one-man and one-woman shows."

"Also, because if you messed up I would kill you." I'm deadly serious but he just cracks up.

"I know, I know…" he trails off, turning up the radio and fiddling around until he finds a song he likes. I exhale deeply and turn my gaze back out the window.

I can't help but feel that we've had this conversation before. The road up to his RV is the same. The sunshine is the same as the day before. Days don't seem to change. I quietly hope that Vega can do that. That maybe, just maybe, the songs won't be the same we always sing, that the play will be something different. It slowly dawns on me, and I can't believe I'm thinking it, but Vega's the key to my happiness at school. At least for the next two months as this stupid play gets under way. Other than exasperation and anxiety, I can't pinpoint the other feelings burbling quietly in my stomach and chest.

Hope? For Vega's success? Nah, couldn't be. At least it shouldn't be.


	4. Chapter 4

**TORI**

Some days pass, and I'm still writing the stupid script. In class, everyone's eyes are on me, I can feel it. It used to be just Jade that gave me some kind of snarky-judgemental look but now it seems like it's everyone. They're all waiting on me.

Me, Robbie, Andre, and Cat are sitting at Berries 'n' Bloom after another day of school lets out. Some kind of salad and fruit place that allergy-prone Robbie has decided is the gluten-free Shangri-la he's always wanted. As has been the case for the past few days, everyone else is relaxing and eating, and I'm up to my chin in reams of notes, papers, character sketches. Frazzled hair and not my best clothes and maybe quickly done makeup.

"Hollywood Arts doesn't even have a basement," Robbie says, continuing a conversation from earlier. "So how can there be a secret restaurant in somewhere that doesn't exist?" Cat just looks wide-eyed like she can't believe Robbie can't believe in something so obvious.

"It's just a basement that you don't know about!" she whines. "There's a lot of things in the world that we don't know about! And things in space too!"

"So…aliens opened the restaurant?" Andre asks. "Girl, sometimes I have no idea what you talk about."

Cat stamps her feet and grunts in anger. It's weird that even her angry grunts could be shaded pink if they had a colour.

"Nooo!" she groans. "Not aliens. Although the kid that opened it is weird. He's the weird one from that webshow!"

"Whoa, he must be really weird then," Andre replies with a stunned look on his face that he tries to hide. He's thinking what I'm thinking. If Cat thinks he's weird and strange, then he must be the strangest thing on earth. I keep that opinion to myself though.

"Why would some kid from some webshow…" Robbie starts.

"From Seattle!" Cat calls out, interrupting him.

"…some kid from some webshow in…Seattle…come down here to open a restaurant? In a basement? Of some random school?" Robbie finishes. Cat just sighs and frowns, but she keeps her mouth shut. Andre just shakes his head and turns to me.

"More ridiculous things have happened," I say with a big shrug, but the look from Andre says to let it go and that the talk of all these secret restaurants is giving him a headache.

"How's the play comin' along?" Andre asks to switch the conversation. It works. Cat suddenly forgets about the restaurant and gives me the wide-interested eyes. At least it's better than the other looks I've been getting. I gesture to all the pages around me.

"How do you think?" I ask, maybe a little meaner than I should have.

"Make it about pirates!" Cat calls out and laughs before going "Arrrrrr!" Her and Robbie laugh together and she points at him with her fork as a fake sword. "Gimme all your booty!"

"Gimme _your_ booty!" Robbie says, barely hiding the innuendo with a wide grin. He does that chin-rest flirt move that's like his signature move, as well as holding his spoon up and clacking it against Cat's fork. She laughs her Cat laugh.

"Not until we're mAAAARRRRieeed!" she says and laughs harder. Her and Robbie have a spoon-and-fork fight and pieces of salad and fruit mist in the air.

Andre and I roll our eyes and ignore them.

"I'm doing, like, a reboot. Of Romeo and Juliet!" I exclaim. Andre doesn't look as excited as I feel. Which, to be honest, isn't necessarily that excited in the first place.

"I feel like that's been done before," he says. "A whole bunch of times."

"I know, I know. But mine's different! It takes place during World War Two! There'll be explosions! And Nazis!" He just shakes his head.

"Man, I am _so_ _sick _o' Nazis. Like, you don't even know," he says. He stabs a piece of melon with his fork and chomps on it.

I feel a little disheartened, but I don't care. I'm doing what I think is right. I tell Andre this.

"It's just how I feel, Tori. You do what you have to do, it's your play. I'm sorry. Just criticism. Without being constructive. I'm sorry," he says.

"It's alright, really." He smiles at me and I smile back. "I think Sikowitz is going to like it. Songs and dancing and acting and all the stuff he likes."

"Like narcoleptic astronauts!" Robbie points out.

"I couldn't fit that in."

"Pirates?" Cat asks, innocent and wide-eyed and soft.

"Couldn't fit that in either."

"Yet," she says, her eyes narrowing in threat.

I go back to writing the script, which after a lot of coffee and various bursts of inspiration and notes, seems to be shaping up to be something. Sure, I've ignored all my other homework for the past little while, and I didn't sleep very well last night, but it's coming along. I just move headlong into it.

There's the surprising realization that I even though I've done all this work, it feels just like that. Like work. It wasn't fun to put effort into it, like when Andre and I wrote that song to get back at Ryder Daniels. It's stressful like putting together Prome, but it doesn't seem like the it'll come with the same rewards and fun.

"I don't think I'm having a lot of fun writing this," I say.

"It's for Sikowitz, it's not supposed to be fun," Robbie says. Cat giggles.

"Yeah, but…" I trail off.

"You've been given an opportunity and you're not getting the most out of it, right?" Andre asks.

"Yeah. I guess you could say that." Andre just shrugs his shoulder.

"Sometimes you have to do things you don't like in this business. Sometimes you need that pay check. In this case, the big, fat 'A' on your report card."

"It's the last play of our high-school lives!" I exclaim. "It should mean something!"

"Should it really?" Robbie interjects. "I mean, we'll all be working so hard anyway, we'll probably just get tired of it in the end. Unless you're the lead. But I'm never the lead," he says with a pout. Cat rubs his shoulder supportively.

"At least you'll always be the Hambone King," she says. He sighs, as if deep in thought. I sigh too.

"Whatever. I'll just finish it, good or bad," I say with firm resolve. I burrow back into the paper and get on with it. I can deal with whatever consequences come later.


	5. Chapter 5

**JADE**

It's night, maybe around eleven. But I don't know. I'm inside Beck's RV and we're doing that romantic couple thing we sometimes do, where we're not fighting or doing anything naughty. Enjoying each other's company, I suppose it's called. I've come a long way, baby. A little while ago I couldn't stand other company.

I make a mental note to bitch it up a notch or two over the next little while. With the end of school play coming up, I could go full diva. That would be nice.

Beck and I are lying on his bed. He's set up a star projector in the inside of his RV, so the little specks rotate on the ceiling in the shape of constellations and other spacey shit. We watch the white lights float around in the dark. My head is on his chest, and I can faintly hear his heartbeat and the gurgles from his stomach. How romantic.

"We should go camping. I kind of want to see the real thing," Beck says. He motions to the stars moving around the ceiling.

"I hate camping," I say.

"I know you do. But maybe, you know, you could put up with it."

"Putting up with you takes up all of my energy, I can't put up with you _and _camping at the same time," I say. I put on a big, fake, hammy grin on my face and he pokes my side. He sighs.

"Love ya," he says

"Love you too," I reply. He leans over me to plug his PearPhone into his stereo, and he puts some slow music on to go with the calming light show. As he does so, I lightly kiss his neck. His hair falls in my face and I can feel his cheeks rise in a smile. He falls back next to me and kisses the top of my head. The song starts up.

_You can depend on certainty  
Count it out and weigh it up again  
You can be sure you've reached the end  
And still you don't feel  
You know about anything_

"If we were maybe to go camping…" I start, and Beck's body tenses in some kind of excitement. "And that's a big, big, big, big maybe…where would you want to go?"

"Hmm," he says. "I was thinking Yellowstone. Or Yosemite." He leans over me again, digging around just under his bed with his arm and hand. Every now and then I see a stray shirt or paper flutter to another part of the room. He grunts as he pulls a heavy coffee-table book up and plops it across us. He opens it up and there's striking black and white photography inside. Shadowy, haunting landscapes of depth and focus. Cliffs and trees and sharp mountains and lakes.

_Do you know you're beautiful?  
Do you know you're beautiful?  
Do you know you're beautiful?  
You are, yes you are_

"Ansel Adams," says Beck. "Almost all his work was from Yosemite." I flip through the heavy pieces of paper. Everything looks wonderful, dramatic. Almost, but not quite, like looking into the face of God.

"Looks stunning," I say.

"I was thinking that we could go for, like, a graduation trip. After the play. We'd bring the RV and just do, like, day trips. So you don't have to sleep over night in a tent."

"Tarantula crawling all in your hair," I say, and he shudders. I giggle at him, and Beck knows that if he told anyone that I giggled, that would be the last moment he'd have on this mortal plane.

"Also…" he says, groping around under the bed, finding a piece of paper. "We can see this on the way to Yosemite."

It's a flyer for the Hangzhou Scissor Museum, which is located in China. But they're doing an exhibition tour of American cities, and conveniently it would be in San Francisco after school's out.

Truth be told, I'm pretty stunned that he would think this much about a simple camping trip. Not that he's a bad boyfriend or anything. It's just…I haven't thought about after Hollywood Arts. It seems kind of surreal that it's all ending in a couple of months, and the notion suddenly and surprisingly makes me a little depressed. I realize that holy shit, I might actually miss the place when it's gone.

_You can ignore  
What you've become  
Take it out and see it die again_

I feign excitement and knock the sad look from my face.

"This looks amazing!" I say, gripping and kissing the flyer. Over-compensating. God, even when Beck and I are generally being good for and to each other, there's still some play-acting involved. It's not natural like when I chew Vega out for something stupid. Why can't this work?

"Yeah. I figured that if we were camping, I'd actually throw in something you might actually want to do," he says. He kisses my head again, rubs my shoulder. He takes the heavy Ansel Adams book off our laps and puts it on the floor.

"Would this be with everybody?" I ask, suddenly sceptical. "Would Shapiro and Cat and Vega all be crammed in here trying to get me to play Monopoly or some garbage?"

He shakes his head.

"Nah, just you and me. Like a…post-grad honeymoon or something."

I smile at the idea, and it's not a forced one either. At least, not as much as kissing the flyer was.

"Sounds good. I'll think about it," I say. Which is just as good as saying yes, I suppose.

Suddenly, his phone buzzes and startles the both of us momentarily. Beck's got a text, but lord knows from who.

_You can be here  
For who's a friend  
And still you don't feel  
You know about anything_

"It's Robbie," he says.

"What does Dorkus Malorkus want?" I ask him.

"He's just saying that Tori's finished her play and just emailed it to Sikowitz. It's Romeo and Juliet." He types something back to Robbie and holds on to the phone.

"Ugh, Romeo and Juliet. We did that in like, 8th Grade," I tell him. The phone does the buzzing thing again and he picks it up to read it.

"Yeah, but…" he trails off for a second before snapping back from texting to me. "I'd make a bitchin' Romeo, and you'd make an amazing Juliet."

"That's more than a little true," I say with a smile. And I kiss him again on the neck.

"So you wanna try for the leads, then?"

"Why not? Could be a lot of fun."

_Do you know you're beautiful?  
Do you know you're beautiful?  
Do you know you're beautiful?  
You are, yes you are_

His phone buzzes again and he picks it up. He click-clacks away and I watch the stars swirl on the ceiling. There's a lot to think about and I don't really want to think about it all when I'm so calm and in a decent plae. The flare of sadness and nostalgia comes back as I think about the adventures we've all come to share.

God, I really, really do consider these people around me friends. Fantastic. I think about how maybe it would be better having all of us on a camping trip. That maybe it would be the buffer that would stop Beck from bugging me at some point. Sharing a tent - possibly - with Cat might not be so bad, right? Entertaining at the very least. But despite the scissor museum thing, despite the idea of being in places where those gorgeous pictures were taken, I can't muster up any enthusiasm.

I can't really figure out why, either. It bugs me, itches the back of my mind like a shadow. Am I really that complacent? Or just restless? I'm back and forth. Constants don't seem so appealing anymore. It hurts my head, makes me scowl, so I try to drown it out.

_Innermost thoughts  
Will be understood and  
You can have all you need_

* * *

School rolls around as it always does, and it takes me a stupid amount of coffee to get ready for the long day ahead. Tori's at her locker, all worry-faced and biting her lip because Sikowitz hands out his judgement on her script today.

Cat sidles up to me, wide-eyed and dressed like cotton candy.

"Hi hi," she says.

"Yeah."

"Look!" I do. She rummages in her backpack for a minute and pulls out a thick, almost cardboard-like piece of paper the size of a Fatcakes box. "Look look look!" she repeats as I take it from her hand.

It's a thick coupon for two people to tour a cotton candy processing and packaging plant. Kaboomz Konfectionary Inc., it's called

"Cool," I say, completely non-plussed. "You want to take me or something?" The idea of so much sugary sweetness and that sticky smell, for an entire afternoon no less, sends my stomach pitching in new ways.

"No!" she says, but it's not mean or anything. It's kind of sly. Self-humoured. "Robbie gave it to me, so I'm going with him!"

Now this I most definitely arch my eyebrow at.

"You…and Robbie? Is this like…a date?" I ask, slowly and haltingly. Making sure that Cat understands the question fully and that the feelings of dorks - even if they're kind of sort of my friend - should always be assumed to be fragile and wanting.

She just shrugs happily and bounds away. Sometimes, or should I say all the friggin' time, having her as a friend is ambiguous and mysterious. Like I'll never ever get a straight answer for the rest of my days.

But then the bell rings, and it's time for Vega's script magic to make it shine or whatever. We all file in and I slump next to Beck. Vega's posture is all attentive and not-slouching and it seems like she's wearing some kind of business-type thing too. All I can think is _ugh really oh my God_ and for a brief, weird flash, I kind of wish I wasn't a bitch about it. She's her own person, or something.

Robbie sits next to Cat and they laugh over some shared joke that I can't hear. So it's really happening. It's like watching a flower bloom right in front of your eyes. But you can't focus on it too long, because in bounds Sikowitz in his usual flair.

"Hello hello hello!" he says.

"Hi hi!" Cat shouts back. He looks around at the stern and dire faces of the class.

"Oh, you want to know if Tori's play is getting produced," he states, like it's a big surprise.

Ugh, even my throat is tensing up, and I'm feeling on the edge. Do I really want Vega to get her work approved? Why am I not, like, stupid jealous right now? I mean, I could audition to be the lead. But the director and writer would be a prime-prime position…

"Sorry to say, but we won't be doing her play," says Sikowitz. There's an audible gasp in the room and she looks kinda-sorta devastated. "I'll write my own play. With…pirates. And astronauts!"

There's a loud, tired groan from the class because holy-hell, Sikowitz' plays make no sense at all. They are way too random and now I'm competing again with flippin' Vega and this day can't get any worse because…

Ah shit. Tori looks kind of upset. And that kind of sucks. For some reason. Shit. Why do I feel kind of sort of guilty about it?

"Tori, I'll talk to you after school, in my office," Sikowitz tacks on, before starting up his lesson on Shakespearean Ideals.

* * *

**_AN: The song at the beginning is "Beautiful" by Mandalay. Total make-out music and awesome._**


	6. Chapter 6

**TORI**

I wait outside some heavy brown door at the end of a hallway I've never really seen before. It's a hidden hallway at the back of the school, one that's not readily apparent to the usual everything. Almost like a secret passage. I feel like I'm in Hogwarts or something.

This is where Sikowitz' office is, which makes sense because Lane and whoever else might want to hide him from whoever. It's after school and things were quieting down before I came here. There's always that weird, surreal feeling of being after school and staying. Like you're doing something bad, but not really. Like you're not living the same routine and your body can't adjust.

I knocked on the door but Sikowitz didn't answer. I figured he wasn't here yet. Despite being a space-case, he's actually good with what he says. If he tells you to meet after school, he'll meet you after school. I'm just a little on-edge because this is a weird part of the school and I feel like I've stepped into the bad neighbourhood. Or driven a cupcake into it. I don't know, that's a bad analogy or simile or metaphor. Whatever.

Before I huff and sigh and decide to leave, Sikowitz rounds the corner and nods to me as he approaches.

"I have an office!" he exclaims. "I had no idea until last week!" He pulls his keys out of his pocket and picks a small gold one from the giant, jangling clump of keys. He opens the door, and then with some effort, pushes it aside.

It was being blocked by reams and reams and reams of files and papers. Stacks of every conceivable thing. His whole office is a disaster. A paper bomb blown up in full, sending everything everywhere.

"Good lord," I comment before I can stop myself. He shoves some papers off his desk and they scatter.

"These aren't really mine, I don't think," he comments. "I guess they've built up over the years. I haven't gotten around to them just yet."

The office would actually be kind of large if it wasn't for the mess. There's a potted plant wilting in the corner, some file cabinets, and various boards and notices on the walls. Other than the papers, it's just like a regular office. It's still kind of claustrophobic. Imposing. I know what's coming isn't an easy conversation to have, and I kind of want to get it over with.

All the paper and Sikowitz' attitude are kind of annoying. I feel jaded and annoyed. Like I live in some cartoon world where nothing reasonable ever happens. No real teachers, and friends who can't be normal. I'm getting all kinds of grumpy.

"So, you wanted to speak to me?" I grit out of my teeth. He clears his throat and we both sit down. The desk is between us and I can only really see his head from the papers.

"Yes? Yes I did."

And there's silence for a moment. I sigh.

"About what?" I ask.

"Oh. Yes. You're play. I'm sorry for not picking it up for the end of year thing." He waves his hand dismissively.

"Not your fault," I say, almost choking it out. I don't know why I'm so bent out of shape.

"It's just…" he starts. I can see him look up to the ceiling, trying to find the right words. "It's just that it was the same thing I get all the time. The Romeo and Juliet thing. It's been done."

"Yeah, I kind of figured that's what was up."

"I think you're very talented, Tori. You know this, right?" I reply in the affirmative. He goes on. "I think that you weren't trying as hard as you could. Some stuff you've done has been…pretty darn great. I think you have real potential."

"Thank you," I say. Waiting for the "but" that is about to follow.

"But this play you wrote. Every year I get the same thing. Love stories and remakes. Sometimes I wonder what happens to the creativity of some of these kids."

He goes into a story about Jenny McDougall from seven years ago. She had "ground-breaking" ideas about pop music and the stuff she'd write was deeply layered and unconventional like Jade's work is most of the time. She was picked to write and direct the end of year play and ended up doing Pygmalion. Only with the gender roles reversed and modernised. Something that had been seen before.

I see him rest his head on the tips of his fingers. He looks me in the eye.

"I think it's fear," he says. "Were you afraid of something?"

"Of something?" I ask.

"Afraid to try? Afraid to write something new? Or new-ish at least."

"I don't think so. Maybe a little." He's retroactively putting the words in my mouth. I'm only replying in the positive because there are a lot of conflicting feelings beginning to burble inside of me.

"I think, because it's the end of year play, and because there's so much work involved, people kind of clam up. They make it safe. They just want to be out of here, on to Hollywood and summer and all that." He sighs deeply, pauses, holds the silence. "Sometimes I feel like honesty and creativity are dead."

It kind of hangs in the air like that. He looks really despondent over this realization.

"So…you don't think I was being honest with myself? Or with the play?" I ask. Another heavy question that hangs. Only this time, from the gallows. Sikowitz and Tori Vega, the after-school special. My phone buzzes in my bag but I ignore it. Andre said he'd text to make sure things were alright, so I assume it's him.

"I think…just this once, you weren't. As a teacher who's been in the game as long as I have, you begin to see things. Patterns in people. Some students, I feel like I know when they hold back or don't know themselves as performers."

I never saw it that way. Teacher-as-observer. A quiet guide who knows you more than you think. I kind of have a tiny bit more respect for Sikowitz in that moment. It doesn't stop the cement-in-my-throat feeling that comes from being publicly rejected.

"What was that one song…?" Sikowitz asks, his brow furrowed in thought. "The one you did for that guy? Ummm…that pretty boy you shamed in front of the whole school?"

"Oh!" I exclaim, catching on. "Beggin' on Your Knees."

"Yes!" he says, pointing. "That song. That was…you. You put all your feeling into it. It really, really, really meant something to you! You could tell in the writing and the performance that it was like…your aura…your spirit…your essence…it was bursting out of every word and movement you made. It was quite jaw-dropping."

"Thank you," I say. I'm actually a little touched, a little moved by his niceties.

"But this play you wrote. It wasn't you. It lacked…personality. Your personality. So I had to reject it. I didn't want a play without edge or feeling or anything that felt like you. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," I say. "You had to do what you had to do."

"You can still direct the play if you'd like. It'll just be what I write."

"I dunno," I say. I feel tired and defeated. My emotions have been kind of swinging all over the place today. "I'll have to think about it."

Sikowitz looks at his watch, getting up and walking around the desk. As he passes, he puts his hand on my shoulder and pats it.

"See you tomorrow, Tori. Again, I'm sorry." And with that, he's out of the office. The door shuts behind him. All I can hear is the hum of the lights and the clacking of the school's air conditioner.

My eyes are getting hot with embarrassed tears, and I just feel tired and awkward and weird and all the bad things that come with rejection and realization and being kind of totally exhausted. The office doesn't feel right being around me. With it's florescent lights and files and things that aren't mine, it doesn't feel personal. Not right. It's anticlimactic to how sad I'm becoming, how silly I actually feel about the whole thing. How much it hurts to actually get shot down. It's the last year of school, the final countdown! I should be on a high, but I'm just low-low-low. Sigh.

There's a knock at the door, something kind of timid. I don't say anything.

The door opens and it's Jade. She's leans against the frame, all imposing with crossed-arms. She looks like a movie star in this moment, all fearless and confidence. God, she's so sure of herself. And I'm nothing. At least I feel like nothing, and of course the girl who hates me the most is here to make it worse.

"You alright?" she asks. It's kind of monotone, kind of calculated. She's up to something.

"Why do you care?" I say, and it comes out more spitefully than I would have liked. She just shrugs.

"I don't know why. I just do," she says. I look her in the eyes but I can't read her intentions. It's kind of infuriating.

"So you can use it against me later, right?" She shakes her head.

"I'm just…interested." It's all she says. Uncomfortable silence follows.

"Go away," I say, crossing my arms in front of my chest and huffing. I don't want to deal with her right now.

"No," she says. Flat out, almost demanding.

"Please?" I squeak out, my demeanour changing to intimidated right away. I'm waiting for her to start bullying me a little. Maybe she'll go to her old standby of giving me a hillbilly accent. Considering how low I feel, she might actually make me cry.

"Nope. Not until you tell me what's up."

"Why do you care?"

"Cause, I just do. Us girls have to stick together," she says, realizing how weird it sounds. She grimaces and rolls her eyes, embarrassed at herself. She contemplates herself again, choosing her words more carefully, makes them more Jade-like. "I'm gonna be in this play, so I want to know why yours didn't get picked. And why I'll probably be playing some kind of nuclear scientist with a dog fetish or something." The last part makes me cringe a little. "Come on. Just fucking tell me."

"He said I wasn't being original enough. That there wasn't any of…me…in the play. That it was a tired concept." At least, that's how I saw what he told me. I could be wrong, it could be another version of the truth. But it's how I feel anyways.

Jade just kind of nods, pursing her lips in thought. It's kind of…cute, I guess? You can see her brain actually working behind her eyes, and it's flattering to her overall air.

"Listen, Vega. You want this play to be…you?" she trails off, changing her face to something I can't read. "Can I level with you, or whatever?" she asks, seriously. She maintains my eyes.

"Go for it," I tell her, trying to be flippant and casual, but failing considering the fact that I'm having a deep-down real feelings conversation with Jade West and it's the weirdest thing ever.

"All this shit," she says, motioning her arms around the office. "All this Hollywood Arts nonsense? All the time it's the same old, same old. Every end-of-year play is interchangeable. No one looks farther than Romeo and Juliet. It's always so simple. Undying love, and music, and everything. Like those fucking god-awful Twilight books come to stupid life. One simple concept bashed into your head over and over again. Things in life…it's not always sweet and grand and amazing or focused. Sometimes it's small, and sometimes you love something so hard it's like getting kicked in the fucking neck and you can't even explain why you feel that way even though you totally do."

She's glowing as she tells me. She's fired up. It feels honest and concerned, and sounds so wonderful to me, I can feel electricity begin to flow through my head. What she's saying…it means something. It's almost beautiful to see her actually worked up on something that doesn't make her angry. She's opening up, and I don't say anything about it, because I want to see where it goes. She begins to pace all over the room.

"You can't make the play about just one stupid easy topic like love. One that's been done to death, right? Things need…nuance, right?" she asks me. She sighs and doesn't let me answer.

"You remember that show? Lizzie McGuire?"

"Yeah! I loved that show!" I enthuse. "I always had a crush on Gordo! He was so sweet and…" I trail off, seeing Jade's bored look. I guess I interrupted her.

"Well, the thing about that show was that it had this stupid, weird thing about it," she says. "It was _The Fucking Lizzie McGuire Show._ All they talked about was Lizzie. Lizzie, Lizzie, Lizzie. If she wasn't in the room they'd be like _Where__'__s Lizzie? We gotta find Lizzie. I can__'__t breathe without Lizzie._ That show really, really could have been something. But it was exhausting. Lizzie, Lizzie, effing Lizzie Mc-effing-Guire, all the time. It was so one track."

"Yeah," I kind of agree, because she's not giving me any time to think about it. She's burning both candles, her thoughts coming out of her mouth all at once, not stopping.

"One thing, at the sake of everything else," she says. "Bashed into your head. It's like that with the plays. And maybe…" she trails off, suddenly kind of hesitant. "Maybe your play was like that. One thing, at the sake of everything else."

I try to think but I honestly can't remember. I thought that maybe, yeah, I did right a great and nuanced play, but maybe I wrote the word 'love' in there too much. It's all kind of a blur.

Jade West is messing me up. It makes my heart beat a little faster but I swallow it down.

"Okay. Okay. Okay. So, say you want to make a new play. And you know that…um…" she thinks, slowing down to think a bit. She still paces. But she's biting her lip in concentration. "Okay, so what do you know about the 1950s?"

I look at her, kind of dumbfounded. How does her train of thought work? She motions with her arms to _hurry it and answer already, jeez._

"Not much, I mean…Marilyn Monroe. And…Grease," I say. It sounds sad and pathetic and stupid and dumb and I'm already beating myself up over it. But for some reason she doesn't give me her patented Jade look of regular disdain. Her face is a little unreadable.

"I meant, like, in terms of history," she says.

"I don't really know…the Cold War…" I trail off. "…housewives…"

"It's simple. The 50s and the 60s were all about the teenager. They had money, there wasn't the threat of them being drafted for war anymore, they had a world in front of them. But they also had this brand new thing called rock music."

"Like Buddy Holly, " I say.

"Like Buddy Holly. Like Elvis. Chubby Checker. Blues. Rock-and-fucking-roll." She's excited now. In one fluid movement, she stands up on Sikowitz' desk. Kicks off the pens and papers. She's a born performer, picking up a stapler and using it like a microphone and swaggering around the heavy wood like an informed public speaker. I'm smiling, I'm giggling. Any sense of tears I had, they are gone and done and far away.

"Parents were scared of rock and roll! Rock and roll meant dancing! Dancing meant excitement! Excitement meant hysterical emotion! That. Meant. Fucking! Music was dirty and messy and winking at you all at once. But it was also history. And stories to tell. And new dances. It wasn't obsessed with itself, wasn't just one thing over and over. Everything was new and exciting and always fresh."

She hops down from the desk, a loud clomp coming from her boots as she lands on the ground. She moves over to me and plops down on the chair to my left. She's close, radiating the warmth of her activity. Breathing a little deeply, her chest rises with the excitement. I can smell her perfume, sweet but untraceable.

"I guess you're right," I tell her. As more of an excuse to actually say something, anything. I suddenly have the urge to validate her, to make her feel good.

"You know I'm right. Think of Jerry Lee Lewis. Great Balls of Fire. He would bash the fuck out of that piano! He was making this crazy-great music, getting you to sing and dance. But at any second he might tear the whole building down." She moves in closer to me, starts to whisper. "Music was supposed to be sweet and innocent and white and all-American back then. But it wasn't. It was a cheerleader with a switchblade, and it was fucking _amazing_. And most of all? It made you think a million things at once and never, ever repeated itself."

There are moments of silence as I take in what she says, the cogs working in my brain overtime. She's infectious, and I love it. I can feel my heart swell with pride. Maybe we're friends after all.

"Thanks, Jade."

Her eyes are still brimstone and fire, she's breathing quickly, and I bet her heart is beating just as fast as mine. My insides are swirling and churning and flipping and I'm burning from all my speeding thoughts shooting through my head. But she just grins and turns to get up to leave.

"Maybe we should do something like that," she says. All confidence and knowledge as per usual. She stops at the door, though, looking at me with meaning that's changed, a way more stoic tone than before. Gone is the fire and brimstone in her eyes. It's been replaced with a caring warmth, which scares me and gives me a feeling I can't quite place. Mainly because it's so rare when it's because of me. Maybe she's just self-conscious or something.

"You know what, Vega? It was your play. It was your story. Do what you want. I just thought…I dunno. Old habits, I guess. Trying to take your spot." She smiles, though. Wide and wondrous. "Not this time though. This one's all yours."

Is she talking to me, or talking to herself?

And then she's gone, and the door clicks, and things aren't so bad anymore. I shoot out of my chair, grabbing my bag, and head out the door too. I have a play to write, and I have to write it before Sikowitz really, truly writes his new play and decides that I'm no good. Already ideas are pouring out of me. I can feel myself furiously laying down the track as the train barrels onwards, catching up behind me.


	7. Chapter 7

**JADE**

Beck finds me after I talk to Tori. "Talking" being a silly little way of describing what I had just done. I feel kind of shell-shocked. I feel kind of blank and messed up and wrong. Confused and astounded. Me. Jade West. I just helped Tori Vega. I just ran around an office and stood on a desk and told her about rock music in the silliest way possible! But instead of embarrassed, instead of self-conscious, I felt good. More than good, even. Great, great, great. But also wrong, wrong, wrong.

But then I think to myself that maybe I don't feel wrong. That this is what feeling right actually is. For a brief, wordless moment between Tori and Beck's car, in the afternoon sun of Hollywood Arts' parking lot…I don't know. Uncertainty as reliability. It's like I'm the calm, beautiful center of the universe, and all the good feelings of the world revolve around me.

This is so not what Jade West should be, ever. But I knew that already, and you knew that already. I've let my itty-bitty guard down for a second, and the dam's burst through. Shit, shit, shit. I can't comprehend this enthusiasm, and my little brain chooses to ignore the effort it would take to actually think things through and give me a big, fat, solid explanation for what just happened.

I don't know why I do it. Or I know exactly why I do it. As Beck gets on to the highway and picks up speed, I roll down the window. I stick my head out the window, laying my neck on the edge of the window. I look straight up, at the blue sky and the occasional cloud as they float by. My hair whips around my face, out of control. The wind in my ears drowns everything out, overtakes me. I feel like I'm flying, and I close my eyes. Bring myself to believe it just for a second. To let the adrenaline and the strangeness and the happiness and all the other little oddities of emotion flow through me.

People call it catharsis sometimes.

* * *

Beck and I spend the afternoon doing homework, idly chatting about nothing as we do it. I sit cross legged on his bed, he at his little desk. We pore over science and history and math, and before we know it, it's dinner time. I give up on learning about Euclid's influence on the whole world, and I'm actually kind of grateful for time flying by.

Normally, I stay for dinner. By that, I mean that we usually go out for dinner after a homework binge. But I really don't feel like it right now. I feel…exhausted. I just kind of want to be alone.

"I think I'm just going to go home," I say, quietly. Because he's my boyfriend and any change to routine is hard and embarrassing and weird. I also feel, oddly enough, guilty. It's not like I'm breaking up something sacred by not eating with him. It just _feels _that way, which I guess is dumb.

"Something wrong?" he asks. His eyes all large in concern. I shrug.

"Not really. I'm just…I dunno." Which is the truth, I suppose.

"You sure?" he asks again. I know he's just being a caring, careful boyfriend or whatever but it's annoying.

"Positive!" I grit out. I pack my bag and kiss him on the cheek. "I'll walk home, no worries," I say with a little smile. He frowns but doesn't say anything, and I leave. The door of the RV clicks behind me, and it's a quick walk before I'm out of view of his house.

But I don't go home. Not right away. With the sun setting behind me, I begin to walk up the Hollywood Hills. Towards that big, looming Hollywood sign. My phone buzzes, and it's Tori, texting me.

_Thnk u 4 everything. I kno what 2 do now. IOU coffee._

I don't reply. I can't reply. It shakes me up. Normally her sickly sweetness would take me out of my own personal happiness. But now, it's not so bad. It feels good to help. For once.

I clamber up the hills and find the Hollywood sign. My boots and pants have a thin layer of dust on them, but I brush it off with my hand, and look up over the city.

Lights. Endless lights. Cars, streetlights, lamps, billboards, signs, nightclubs, everything. It looks like neverending Christmas lights, lightly flickering. Sending light into the sky, drowning out the stars. So many people. I feel so small, and I like it. I finally figure out what to text to Tori.

_Anytime._

And that's that. She's my friend now. And the idea doesn't make me cringe. It actually kind of fills me with warmth. I know now that I'm Alice, falling down the rabbit hole into a whole new world, a whole new me.

* * *

That night, I have a dream. Vivid and pure and burned into my brain like a brand.

I'm in an enormous nightclub. Massive, throbbing with endless dancing people. It's dark except for the nightclub lights, throwing shadows and colours everywhere. Lasers and smoke aimed at the ceiling, swirling in tune to the beat and melody of the sounds. The music is beautiful. Wonderful dance music that makes me lift my arms up to the sky and watch them flicker and flash.

The world is moving in slow motion. I can see every bead of sweat, every muscle on every person. The club is in perfect harmony. Only, I'm not in sync with them. So I push through the crowd. I catch little glimpses of people I know.

Cat here, Robbie there. They're dancing together. Her hand on his cheek. His arm around her waist. They're happy, and I feel happy for them. A happy that I've never really thought about before. It's good to see them together. Robbie's dorky smile doesn't bug me, it's endearing here.

But I push through the crowd, forgetting about them. I find that I have a drink in my hand. It's bright blue, and I drink it, and I realize that I'm sipping on some kind of booze. It doesn't taste that bad. Looking up from the drink, I realize I'm searching for something. Illusive, like a shadow. I let go of the alcohol, but it doesn't smash against the ground or anything. It just slips away into the night, easily gone from my scene.

The music keeps going, the lights keep flashing. Andre passes by, a big supportive smile on his face. He disappears into the crowd, his dreadlocks getting lost in the mass of people. The shadow itches at the back of my mind.

As I think this, the crowd parts. Like Moses and the sea. They spread to each side, and in the center is Tori. She's dancing, going along with the music. I don't feel so out of sync anymore.

She's dressed in black, in a tank top and tight black pants. I realize that I'm dressed in almost the exact same way. I feel compelled to move closer to her. She looks up at me with her big brown eyes and smiles wide, her teeth still white and perfect in the dark.

Welcoming. She's welcoming.

I find myself next to her, dancing with her. The rest of the world slows down. My hand on her hip, her body moving closer to me. Her hair is dark in the club's lights, but I catch a blue streak in her hair, matching mine. I lean in and smell her hair, keeping my face close.

And then I wake up.


	8. Chapter 8

**TORI**

The sun had set and after a quick dinner at home, I headed out to Diablo Coffee with my laptop. I have things to do. A play to write. The whole time driving here, I played some loud rock music, trying to scream along. It's tougher than it looks, stepping outside your comfort zone. But I try, anyways. I feel kind-of-sort-of energetic, ready to type out a script as fast as I can. The last one took me three days, and I have only one night to finish this one. Sikowitz can't write his, can't get too used to the idea of being the writer.

I'm near the beginning of the line at Diablo Coffee, and my phone buzzes after a moment or so. I see that it's Jade, replying to my earlier text thanking her. I felt like I had to tell her something. Anything to let her know that I'm grateful. I check my phone.

_Anytime._

That's all her text actually says. But it's more than nothing. And it makes me smile just a little bit. It makes my heart leap a touch. I feel like I might be actually growing on her, and that feels good.

I look up from my phone and see the frowning face of the barista. I'm next in line, and luckily enough I know what to order. In fact, my heart's beating kind of quick, because I know what I'm about to do will be crazy.

"Yeah, hi," I say to the barista, some young guy who looks like a failed screenwriter-hipster. "Can I get the Diablo Loco Espresso?"

His eyes go wide behind his thick Buddy Holly glasses, but he loses the brief flicker of emotion for his usual face of calculated cool.

"I am legally required to tell you that imbibing the Diablo Loco Espresso is to be done at your own risk," he says.

"I understand," I tell him.

"Do you or any members your family have a history of heart-related illnesses or disease?"

"Not that I know of."

"Are you currently 3 - 6 months pregnant?" I blush at this question.

"No."

"Do you have breast implants or any have had any other cosmetic surgery?" Again, I blush, but it turns to a frown because he is clearly staring at my chest. Because he likes it or if he's checking for implants, I don't know. But it makes me uncomfortable, and I pull my jacket a little tighter over me, hunching my shoulders.

"Haven't had any of that, no." He moves his eyes up to mine. The jerk.

"Alright then." He rings up the order and a little blip on the screen chimes. The other baristas gasp. They can't believe someone would actually get this drink. Apparently it's like drinking six Red Bulls all at once, and the government is currently debating whether or not it can be served legally.

They give it to me though, and I plop down in one of the big, comfy armchairs they have here. I turn on my laptop, put on my headphones, and throw on some music. My ex-boyfriend Steven used to listen to some of this stuff, the cheating pretty-boy jerky-jerk. I turn it up loud to try and get in the mood, and casually sip at my super-powered espresso.

It hits me like a brick to the face. An instantaneous _zing_ and I'm typing like a maniac. I'm not tired, can never ever be tired ever again, the caffeine feels far too good to be real. I focus like a laser beam, my mind moving at a million-trillion-billion miles per second. I write the script and I keep writing, feeling my fingers move almost effortlessly. It helps when I think of Jade, of seeing her jump onto the desk and pretend to yell into her microphone. It gives me an edge, gives me a reason to try. I want my play to be that moment. I want everything that's to be on stage to encapsulate that moment. The punk-rock energy of it. The grace and the beauty that seemed to rest on a razor's edge. I want this play to be kind-of-sort-of Jade incarnate, and the idea doesn't strike me as weird at all. Comforting, in fact.

The script pours out of my brain, my fingers barely able to keep up. I write and write and write some more, never stopping. If I lose interest in one part I go to another part and hop back when I'm ready or when a new idea for what to do enters my head. I'm zinging around the script like a pinball, stretching like elastic, snapping back into position.

Part of me worries that it won't make much sense, that I'm just spilling out ideas onto the screen, but it doesn't matter. It makes sense to me. In fact, I love what I'm writing. It's so much better than what I've written before. I'm involved. _I need this._ The Diablo Loco and Jade and every pent up feeling I've ever had about anything, coming out like static electricity. I really, really, really hope Sikowitz picks it or thinks it's at least good enough to end our year on.

Even if he doesn't, I know it's mine and that I love it. This is the way I should have done things from the start. I curse Sikowitz for being right. Beneath his wacky exterior is an actual human being, an actual teacher, and it's weird that he let me in on that.

I finish. I have nothing else left to write. I've been staring at my screen the whole time, and I see that Diablo Coffee is almost empty of people. It's late at night, and I've missed two texts from my mom. She's probably worried sick or something, so I let her know I'm fine, and that I'm just working late on things.

I grab all my things and rush to the car. I have to visit the all night printing place, and then it's off to Sikowitz' place. None of that sounds strange. It all feels quite natural. Maybe it's the coffee, maybe it's the exhilaration of doing the script, but I feel weightless as I head across the parking lot. I feel fluid and natural and every step I take is something that lights up the universe.

I know that tonight's going to be a good night. It's my belief, my one constant in this moment.

* * *

Printing the script was the easy part. Finding Sikowitz' house was the tough part. I'd been there only once before for some sleepover party, and even though I'm in the right neighbourhood - I have to be, right? - I can't find the damn thing. My mind keeps jumping to thoughts about how strange it was to be invited for a sleepover to a teacher's house. People have been fired for less weird and creepy behaviour.

But before I can delve too deep into it, I find his house. It's the one with the coconut mailbox and beat up car. It has a bumper sticker saying "Make It Shine" on the back, and I wonder what that really actually kind-of means. I screech my own car into his driveway and narrowly avoid ramming his. I hop out, script in hand.

Ringing, ringing, ringing the doorbell and pounding, pounding, pounding the door frantically.

"Sikowitz!" I call out. "Open up! Openupopenupopenupopenupopen up!"

There's some noise from behind the door and I hear some Sikowitz-style grumbling. The door swings open, and there he is. Despite the fact that his eyes are wide in shock, his hair rumpled messily, and the fact that he's wearing a silk, pink, _woman's_ bathrobe, I'm very happy to see him.

"Tori!? What are you doing here? Is something wrong?" he asks. I smile wide.

"Nope nope!" I call out, sounding a little bit like Cat. I push past him and wave the script around.

"I did it! I wrote a new play! A better play!" I tell him. "Read it!" I throw it at him, where it hits his chest and falls into his arms. He briefly looks at it, but looks back at me with a disheartened expression.

"I appreciate your enthusiasm, Tori, but I'm a little busy right now…" he starts, but I throw five fingers to his face.

"Nope nope nope!" I say. "You're going to read it. Right now. We can read it together."

I plop myself down on the couch and cross my arms.

"Tori, please."

"Nope!" I call out. I start reciting the play from my memory. "_With the curtain closed, the Chorus enters from stage right. It is a meek looking man, a tired rock-n-roller who might be a little too old..__"_

"Tori!" Sikowitz interrupts. "Now is not the time!" He sounds exasperated. Not angry, just, you know, like he has better things to do with his time. Yeah right, like Sikowitz has anything to do late on a Tuesday night, it's not like he…

"Baby? What's going on out there?" calls a voice from his bedroom. A female voice. A sultry female voice. I turn to look, and a curvy blonde woman enters the living room. She stops herself at the doorway and leans against it, crossing her arms. She's wearing pink, silken lingerie. That matches the robe Sikowitz is wearing.

I may be a pitiful little virgin or whatever, but I can put two and two together. My eyes widen, and I shoot up from the couch.

"I'm so sorry!" I squeal. "I didn't know you had company!" I can feel my face blazing red.

"Tori, this is Melanie. Melanie, this is Tori," Sikowitz says. He's trying very, very, very hard to have a tone of civility.

"Hello Tori," she says with an awkward, pearly, super-model smile.

"Hi," I reply. But then it hits me. "Hey! You're that girl! From that underwear commercial!"

"Victoria's Secret. The new collection," she confirms. She does a little twirl to show off the very expensive underwear and I blush even more furiously. Her butt is basically perfect…and her breasts are actually really nice too…and I wonder if they're natural…and they sort of look like they're the same size as Jade's…and I feel a little warmth in my stomach at the thought of Jade's chest…

Sikowitz clears his throat noisily and breaks my distracted thinking.

"Tori was just handing in a late assignment. Thanks, Tori. I'll look it over. Uh, when I get a chance," he says. He takes my arm and guides me back to the door.

"Bye Tori!" says Melanie. "Nice to meet you!" She stops leaning against the wall and looks at Sikowitz.

Her expression changes. It's something primal, almost dangerous. It's the look Steven would give me at Keenan Thompson's house when we were looking for a place to have our special kiss. It's the look Jade sometimes gives Beck. It's almost like pure passion incarnate. Out of nowhere she leans forward, exposing her hefty cleavage. She slides her hand underneath the band of her panties and puts it in between her legs.

"As for you, Erwin," she says to him. "You haven't finished eating your hot, juicy peach yet..."

Sikowitz shoves me out the door, blushing apologetically as he slams it in my face. My mouth is wide open in shock, and if my face gets any redder I might burst into flames.

* * *

I lie under my covers, the warmth in my stomach having returned. Thoughts of my play, of Melanie, of the look that she gave that looked like Steven, and of Jade all flash in my head. It's like all the wires down there are tightening, like there's a lot of stress that needs to be relieved.

I realize I'm wet. That I'm honest-to-God turned on, and I don't really resist myself anymore. I do what Melanie does. Leaning forward, I slide my hand under my pyjama bottoms and put my hand between my legs. I think about the new Victoria's Secret. I wonder what it would look like on me. I picture myself wearing what Melanie was wearing. The way the silk would fit me, the way it would feel on my skin as it warmed up, wondering how good it must look. Imagine a darkened figure up against me, kissing my neck. Heavy breathing.

"You haven't finished eating your hot, juicy peach yet…" I whisper, but it just makes me giggle at how stupid it sounds. I picture the darkened figure kissing lower, lower, lower…

I've never had it done on me or anything. I, you know, _used my mouth_ on a couple boyfriends…but they never really reciprocated. But that doesn't mean I can't imagine what it might feel like, right? So I do just that. I moan, breathe deeply. I picture my hands running through the darkened figures hair, which is now black and shiny and long. Am I thinking about Beck? I don't have to time to worry about it, because I can feel the pressure building even more. I bite my pillow to stop a heavy moan escaping. I keep going, a little faster now.

I imagine the person with the dark hair looking up at me and smiling. And I realize that it's Jade. Her lips on…mine. Those piercing eyes and her porcelain skin. Her tongue slowly working me.

I come. I tremble and gasp and the pressure releases. I can hear the wetness around my fingers. The euphoria eventually fades away, and I'm left in the dark. Tired but happy.

Jade's eyes are burned into my brain, but I don't mind. I don't feel guilty. I don't feel dirty. I feel…I don't really know how I feel.

* * *

**A/N - I figured the story needed to earn it's M rating a little bit. Also, a big fat thank you to the recent adds, reviews, and favorites I've gotten. This story is hitting it's stride because of all y'all out there willing to put up with it!**


	9. Chapter 9

**JADE**

Sikowitz' class. The same old sitcom layout. Robbie and Cat near the front, Beck and me lounging at the back. Andre sort of in the middle. No Tori just yet, no Sikowitz either, but that's typical. For him, I mean.

I can't shake the dream I had. Can't shake it because of how strong it was in my head. But also because I kind of enjoyed it a little too much. I look at Beck and his big, black hair, and he smiles into his phone. Texting his buddy from Canada or something. Funny jokes. Haha. I just sip my coffee and try to ignore whatever thoughts are in my head.

The door opens and in walks Tori. She looks terrible. Like a zombie. Her hair an uncombed frizz, her eyes half closed. She shuffles in, dressed in simple sweats, and flops herself into a seat next to me.

"Holy moly Tori!" says Robbie, who notices all women at all times. "What happened?"

She just grunts, then lets out a moan.

"I had Diablo Loco Espresso," she groans out. The class gasps. I look down at my coffee cup and wonder if its appropriate to be drinking it in front of her. Or whatever.

"How was it?" Beck asks her. She grunts and groans again.

"It's good at the time. I feel terrible now."

"Why would you drink something like that?" Andre asks. She groans more.

"I feel so bad, you guys!" She whines out the last part, lengthens it to maximize her complaint.

"It's called a hangover, Vega," I tell her, but she gives me a sort-of-annoyed look. "Or a caffeine crash, more or less." She grumbles and plops her head on my shoulder. My eyes go wide with shock but I don't do anything about it. I'm frozen and that stupid dream plays in my head. Everyone's looking, because of course everyone would be looking at Tori like her life and every little action is just so damn important to everyone.

Cat starts laughing and pointing and covering her hand with her mouth in that way that she does.

"It's so cute! It's so cute!" she squeals out as I glare at her with my best murder-face. "You guys look like this puppy video I saw last night!" She starts to pull out her phone to play the video or ohmygawd she might take a picture! So I growl at her.

Luckily, Sikowitz comes in, all swagger. He immediately yells "no cellphones!" and Cat puts hers away. I feel Tori take her head off my shoulder and she visibly becomes uncomfortable. Sikowitz is making a show of avoiding her gaze as well. What the hell is going on?

"So, uh, before we begin our throat-yelping exercises for the day, I thought I'd talk to everyone about the end-of-school play," Sikowitz starts. I look over to Tori, who's at least a little less zombified than she was before. She's actually looking at Sikowitz now, but it's kind of an unreadable look. Awe and shock and horror, maybe.

"Tori wrote a new play for me, last night, and I had a good look at it," says Sikowitz. "I've decided to go for her new script. Tori Vega will be directing! Huzzah!" He claps and the class joins in. I look at Tori and she smiles back at me, a tired smile. She mouths the words _thanks again_ and I feel embarrassed and confused so I turn back to Beck and Sikowitz.

"Why'd you change your mind?" Andre asks Sikowitz. He just shrugs.

"She gave me a new play. One with different music and a different setting."

"What's it about?" I ask, trying to sound as uninterested as possible and failing.

"Tori, why don't you explain?" says Sikowitz. "I'm…quite exhausted this morning."

Funny, he doesn't look or act like it, but in that moment his expression changes to one of darkness. He sits with his head in his hands. Tori forces herself to perk up and sits up in her chair.

"What were you doing last night?" Cat asks Sikowitz, taking the focus away from Tori. He doesn't say anything. "Was it a play? A movie? The zoo? The aquarium?" She giggles and does a dolphin sound.

"Or was it a _lady_?" Robbie chimes in with that smug look he gets when he thinks he's telling a funny joke.

"_Robbie!_" Tori squeals, somewhat angrily, blushing furiously. What the sweet hell? Did she sleep with Sikowitz? Am I the only one seeing this? Tori changes the subject immediately. "My play's about a group of teenagers who fight to save their rock-and-roll diner from a group of old people who try to turn it into houses. It takes place in the 50s," she says.

For a moment, the world disappears. Rock and roll. The 50s. Teens versus parents. In her logline was everything we had talked about. She'd actually taken what I had said to heart. I guess. Wow. I'm a mix of flattered and embarrassed, but there's also this little warm feeling deep within me. A warmth I haven't really felt in a long, long, long time. I swallow it down, because there's something else bothering me. And it has to do with the Tori-Sikowitz pairing that I'm suddenly grossly imagining in my mind.

* * *

After lunch, I confront Tori at her locker, sidling quietly up next to her as she digs around for whatever. She's already looking healthier and better than this morning. The after-effects of the Diablo Loco Espresso must be waning. But there are more important things at hand than how Vega looks.

"Did you fuck Sikowitz last night?" I ask. Papers and things fall out of her locker, spilling everywhere. She starts sputtering and stuttering at me, her face turning a deep crimson. We both bend down to pick up the stuff, and I shove it all to her. "What the hell is going on, Vega?"

She grabs my arm and pulls me close.

"I am _not not not_ doing anything with Sikowitz!" she hisses at me.

"Then what _the fuck_ were those looks you two were having in class today? Like you were about to give away a secret or something." She looks around conspiratorially before aiming those big brown eyes my way.

"I caught him…with a lady," she whispers. Her crimson turns a sickly colour of green. I smile immediately.

"Ew, gross! Was it that lunch lady with the lazy eye?"

"No." The about-to-puke look on her face is too amusing to pass up.

"That lady at Berries and Bloom with the full moustache?"

"Worse," she says as she leans in even closer. I can feel the heat from her skin. "_An underwear model_."

"What? Like a…granny pantie thing?"

"No!" she exclaims, but then catches herself for being too loud. She looks around. "She was like…gorgeous."

"Okay…" I shrug, waiting for her to get to the point.

"But she told him…she told him sex stuff while I was there," she says, turning another shade of sickly green. "She wanted him to…eat her peach. And thinking about Sikowitz doing anything like that…"

Now it's my turn to cringe as she goes back from green to red. All the Christmas colours.

"I'm sorry," I say. I pat her back, and catch myself doing it. I try to make it appear kind-of-casual or whatever. I don't know.

"What's this?!" asks Sinjin, who skips down the hallway, stopping at us. So happy-go-lucky in his skinny, skinny, skinny jeans. "What hath brought thine friendship together?" he proclaims.

I growl at him and he starts to skip away, scared.

"Shut up, dork! And Olde English is not coming back!" I yell at him.

"Tis Middle English, actually!" I hear his voice yell, fading into the hallway. I growl again, and turn back to Tori, who's smiling.

"What?" I ask her. She just shakes her head.

"Nothing. See you at the production meeting?" she asks me, already closing up her locker and picking up her bag.

"Yeah. I'll be there," I say. I should add _kind of excited for it_ at the end, but I don't. She waves bye and turns to head to whatever class she has.

* * *

After school is the first production meeting. A gauge to see who's interested in what and to set up dates. It takes place in the Black Box Theatre and there's usually pizza or cookies or something. I show up early for once, and have to put up with Cat and Robbie being losers as I take a seat near them, and near the stage.

"One time my brother did that," Cat drawls. "That's why our garage has all those wet garbage bags in it."

Robbie cringes and laughs. I groan.

"Can you two just…not talk for a little bit?" I ask.

"You have a Diablo Loco too?" Cat asks in all earnestness. "Caffeine crash?"

"I believe it's called _having your period_," says Robbie. He looks at Cat for a laugh but she just looks back at him. I punch him in the arm as hard as I can. He yelps his little Robbie yelp.

"You're not having it, are you?" Cat asks, suddenly sad. "We synced up in Junior Year, remember? Our blood oath?"

I'm frozen, completely mortified by the deepest, darkest secret she's just let spill. Robbie's face of shock probably mirrors mine.

"Holy Moses!" he calls out, and I pull out the trusty pair of scissors as fast as I can.

"Share that with anyone, and these scissors'll meet your eye, got it?" I threaten. He just nods, scared. Cat makes a sound.

"Robbie's a good friend. We should be able to tell him these things," she says. "All our girl stuff."

"Is he a girl?" I ask.

"No," answers Cat, shaking her head as firmly as possible.

"Then he can't know about girly things, okay?" Why oh why oh why is my life slowly but surely spiralling out of control in terms of everything stupid?

"What's going on?" Beck asks, entering the theatre with his furrowed-brow of suspicion.

"Nothing!" all three of us say to him. He doesn't add any questions, and sits next to me. I put my arm around him, but it feels awkward. I let go after a weird, silent moment or two.

The room begins to fill up. Sinjin and Burf doing their Olde Timey Thing or whatever. Andre and some girl-of-the-week he's in love with. Trina shambles in, able to knock over a couple of chairs all annoying and loud like she usually is. She blows Sinjin a kiss and he pretends to catch it and put it in his pocket. I almost throw up, because _holy shit they are a thing now apparently_.

Then there's the various miscellaneous people I only recognize by face, and a couple of sneering redheaded twins from Northridge who have come to make fun of us. Other than Sikowitz and Tori, it's the usual gang of troublemakers. A low burble of conversation fills the theatre and I throw my headphones on, watching Robbie and Cat play the poking game or whatever. I tap my toe and wiggle my leg. Impatient.

But then Sikowitz and Tori show up, together, not really doing anything to help my original impression that they're doing it. Tori knows this, and gives me an eye as if to say _shut up, I__'__ll kill you_ and I smile back, because when did Tori-Effing-Vega ever get any spine like she's showing now? She hands a box to somebody at the front of the room and photocopied versions of the script begin to circulate. I take my copy, scanning the title page.

_Betty Bombshell and the Broken Dreams_

I love it already.


	10. Chapter 10

**TORI**

Time passes, as it is usually known to do.

The play moves along swiftly, and I'm able to cobble together set dressers and a tech crew for sound and lights. When I'm not in the Black Box helping put up walls and trying to ignore drilling or hammering sounds, I'm working on early posters and layouts and that kind of thing. Most of it is in the hands of Sinjin and Burf, but they assured me that everything would work out fine.

"It is of most grave importance," said Burf, one time when we were in the hallway between classes. "For mine colleague and I to gain ourselves at least an 'A' on this project of most delightful whimsy."

"Yes, like Mercury we will work with haste to bring excellence to everything you see and hear on the night of the show," said Sinjin. He waggled his eyebrows and leaned close to me conspiratorially. "We will maketh a blood oath."

"Blood oath!" called out Burf, who pulled a Swiss Army Knife from his pocket. I gasped and took a step back. He brought it down swiftly on his hand, and red blood began to ooze out of the wound. He grimaced but gave the knife to Sinjin. Sinjin did the same thing and they gave each other a slow handshake with their injuries. The blood made a squelching sound as their hands clasped, and I backed away slowly, feeling my face turn green and my stomach churn.

I told Jade about it and she just said that it was probably the coolest thing those two had ever done, but her face looked half-embarrassed-half-mortified for whatever reason when I asked her if she'd ever heard of a blood oath. When I told Trina, she just sighed and looked dreamily to the ceiling, whispering Sinjin's name to herself.

Other than that, time passed as it usually does at Hollywood Arts. I could feel it getting busier because of all the work with the play, but I wasn't complaining. The Diablo Loco had exited my system and I was sleeping better. I also stopped having sexy thoughts about Jade, but every now and then I'd catch myself looking at her or just thinking about her. I'd try to throw it out of my mind because of how busy things were getting, but sometimes that would be sort of tough. I had no choice but to disregard them as classes and the play took over.

"Have you ever noticed that when Sikowitz wants us to do something, he gets Sinjin and Burf to spy on us?" Andre asks.

"That Shakespearean dork isn't here now, is he?" Jade asks, looking around, paranoid.

Robbie had found a great diner in West Hollywood that we had made a post-production dinner place. I was at the end of the booth, and crammed together from my right onwards were Jade, Beck, Cat, Robbie, and Andre, who looked directly across from me. Of course Jade just had to sit next to me. Of course she had to steal some of my fries.

"I wonder if he pays them on the sly, or what they actually get out of it," Beck wonders, looking upwards into his hair thoughtfully.

"I could use some cash," Jade deadpans. "Any room in the budget to actually pay the people who help you out with your play, Vega?"

I just roll my eyes and shake my head.

"Maybe they get good marks or something," Cat says. "Like when Sikowitz says that he'll give us an A for the rest of the semester but then we still have to go to class and pretend like it never happened."

"What's his deal with doin' that anyways?" Andre asks. "It's all kinds of hella-weird."

"His whole life is all kinds of hella-weird," Robbie says.

"That's actually the most profound thing you've ever said, dorkus," says Jade. I know it's a mean thing to do, but I laugh at what she says. I catch myself though, and Robbie looks a little put out by it. Cat laughs too, but it's at a bit of ranch dip that lands on Robbie's collar. She wipes it up with her thumb and sucks at it.

"So, are you two, like, going out, or what?" Beck asks in his Beck-is-serious-guys way. Robbie freezes like a deer in headlights, and Cat stops giggling. Their eyes both go wide. Even though it's only for about two seconds, a silence descends over the table and it feels like an eternity.

"Anyways," Jade starts before turning to me, her eyes burning in to mine. "What's the deal with your sister doing it with Sinjin?"

I nearly spit out my soda.

"What?!" I exclaim.

"You didn't know?" Robbie asks, glad to have the attention off of him, and to probably get revenge for me laughing at him.

"Yeah, they're totally banging," Beck says. _Too_ matter-of-factly for my liking.

"Can you imagine?" Cat says, laughing into her sleeve. But then she goes wide-eyed and looks horrified suddenly. "Guys, don't imagine it."

"It must be a misunderstanding, or something," I stutter out. Jade tells me about how she saw them air-kissing at the first production meeting.

"I heard that Sikowitz caught them, you know, in the middle of, you know, _it_," Robbie says. "In that really roomy janitor's closet we have."

"Gross!" Jade exclaims. Andre laughs.

"Imagine, her big tanned legs wrapped around his pale skinny body," Andre adds on, laughing harder. Everyone groans and rolls their eyes, and Jade throws a fry at Andre. My fries. I should probably make her pay or get her to buy me some more sometime.

"I'll ask her about it, get it confirmed, I guess," I say. The whole thing makes me cringe my face, like I'm smelling garbage.

"Hey, love is love, right?" Beck says. "If they're a happy couple, then good for them."

"I wouldn't know what to do with myself if we were a happy couple," Jade deadpans with a side-eyed-stare. Beck ignores her and stuffs his salad into his mouth. Another uncomfortable silence throws itself on the table and everyone takes thoughtful, annoyed bites of their food.

I break the silence.

"You guys ready for your auditions in a week?" I ask. If there's anything that people at Hollywood Arts like to talk more about than gossip, it's their performances. The table cheers up and perks up quite noticeably.

"I hope you're nice about who gets picked for what," Cat says with her wide-eyed look, honestly scared.

"I'll be nice," I reassure her. "Just remember to do a monologue, and a song."

"The play's got singing in it, we know, we know," Andre dismisses. He, along with Robbie and Beck, suddenly sit up a little straighter, and I follow their gaze to the diner's door. Northridge girls, notorious ones at that. A redhead named Candy, a blonde with the name Desiree, and a brunette who went by Alexis.

Jade, Cat, and I roll our eyes.

"Rex'll be mad he's not here," Robbie says.

"I'm glad that creepy _thing_ isn't here," says Jade. I nod in agreement.

"Hi, boys!" the three girls coo as they pass by our booth. I watch as Robbie, Beck, and Andre follow their butts with their eyes. I see Cat frown a little at Robbie, and Jade punches Beck hard in the arm.

"Wait, I recognize them!" Robbie exclaims quietly to us, so the Northridgers don't hear us. Or is that Northridgites?

"How do you recognize them?" Cat asks, quiet and sad in that Cat way.

"Did you makeout with them?" Andre asks.

"No! I don't want herpes!" he squeaks out.

"No one cares, dorkus," says Jade. She pauses for a moment. "Spill," say adds on, brandishing her fork in a threatening gesture.

"They're the ones who were the suspects in that arson case a couple of months ago," he stage-whispers to us.

I look to them and search my brain for what happened. They're sitting at the counter, ordering milkshakes from a leering waiter.

"My brother says arson's alright, but it's just small-change in the grand scheme of things," says Cat. Then the memories come flooding back.

A shoe store in Northridge Mall had been set on fire. All of it had been burnt to a crisp, including about $30,000 in fancy high heels. There were traces of homemade napalm and other things that pointed to arson. The manager blamed the girls because they had gotten into a fight with him the day before over credit cards being denied or something. They didn't have enough evidence to pin it on Candy, Desiree, and Alexis, but they were the only suspects for a while.

"Beautiful _and _dangerous," Andre says to himself. Robbie just shrugs.

"Who knows?" he says.

"We've already got one of those beautiful and dangerous ones here, right, babe?" Beck asks Jade, putting his arm around her.

"You're comparing the things I say and do to a bunch of slutty arsonists?" she asks, that dangerous look in her eyes.

Beck immediately begins to backpedal and stutter and try to explain himself. So goes another moment in our lives.

* * *

It's audition day. A Saturday all day at school. While it's for my play, and I'll still see my friends, I'm still put out by the idea that I have to be in the Black Box on a Saturday that involves having to judge people endlessly. I sit near the back, almost in total darkness with a clipboard and pen and a list of everyone who signed up. People waiting to audition sit closer to the stage, avoiding my gaze and pretending I'm not there. Out of nervousness, or whatever, I don't know.

I look for Jade and others in the group of people, only seeing the back of heads, but before I can find them, Sikowitz plops down in the seat next to me with his own clipboard and pen, sucking back on a crazy-large coconut. I stare at it in awe. It's about the size of a basketball.

"Shhh," he says, holding his finger to his lips. Even though I didn't say anything. "It's an illegal coconut. They made it bigger by injecting it with bull hormones." Another large, loud sip. "We ready for this?" he sighs out, holding his list up. I nod.

"Yeah, I mean, if you are…" I start.

"First, please!" he calls out and interrupts me. Trina takes the stage. I hear a very Sinjin-like cat-call come from somewhere in the theatre. She winks in it's direction.

"Oh boy," I hear from Sikowitz, but I give her the benefit of the doubt.

"My name is Trina Vega, and I'm auditioning for the role of Betty Bombshell," Trina says loudly. "I'll be performing a monologue from Pygmalion, and singing the latest hit by Ginger Fox."

And so it goes. People get up on stage, perform their monologue and their song, and promptly leave. For each character in the play, I put a name or hopeful person next to them, thinking they'll be best for the role. Sinjin and Trina are chastised for sloppily making out and distracting the people auditioning. Twice. They leave the theatre to continue elsewhere.

Unfortunately, for my two lead characters - Betty Bombshell and her love interest Ronald Nerdington - a name doesn't really come up, for either one of them. Trina does better than expected, but I see her as a totally different character, and slot her in the role of Mary Dogood, the play's antagonist and overall villain. Andre does well, but not well enough to be Ronald. I seem to be slotting everyone into supporting roles or people away from the leads. I put Beck into the small-but-still-important role of Mary Dogood's husband, Danny Dogood.

It slowly dawns on me that I'm not giving the leads to my friends because I'm either biased or not biased enough. I don't want people to think that they're getting plum roles because they're my friends. But it's also my play, and they're not doing what I want them to do to win the great parts. I'm a big, confused mess of emotions and conflicts right now.

Robbie comes up on to the stage, the fifteenth or so boy to do his thing. He coughs into the microphone, shooting feedback everywhere. The crowd groans at the squealing noise. But he just goes on.

"My name is Robbie Shapiro and I'm auditioning for the role of Jacob, and my song and monologue are both from Dr. Doolittle," he says. Polite claps from everybody. And he goes on to do his thing. He's the only one so far that hasn't auditioned for a large part. He seems to just want a side act with a couple of lines and some pratfalls and that's it.

But he does his thing, and I see it. He's Ronald Nerdington. It dawns on me quickly. He's got the positive energy and the geek chic look I need for the character. He's my male lead, and I pen him in. I secretly hope Cat does well enough to be Betty Bombshell. It could maybe be the thing that might get them together. He finishes, quite unassuming that he's now the most important man in my school life right now.

Cat does her tap dancing thing, and does a monologue from Macbeth. Which is impressive and kind of surprising, but she's too girly to be Betty Bombshell. Her role comes to me though, and I put her into a main supporting part. The one that Sikowitz sort-of gnashes his teeth over because he expects backlash from the parents, but it's perfect for sweet, unsuspecting Cat Valentine.

More and more people try out. More than what's usual, in fact. I feel kind of good about it. People actually care about the play, and want to be in it. This isn't like a Full Moon Jam or whatever, where you only get about twenty people signing up.

"How's the whole selecting thing going?" Sikowitz asks me during a brief break. We compare notes and we've picked the same people, pretty much. Only his male lead is blank where I've put Robbie's name. He shrugs. "Eh, it's your play, what can I say? I'm high off this coconut in every way, today."

He takes another sip, suckling at the straw like it's the last thing he'll ever do, and then he bursts into a fit of giggles.

"Next!" I call out into the auditorium to cut him off. It's Jade, and my heart skips a beat. Stupid heart. She's dressed in a black tank top, with a dark red bra showing, and tight black jeans. A new colour of streak in her hair: dark red to go with her bra. She looks too good and I hate myself for thinking odd thoughts about her when I can't help it.

"My name is Jade West," she says. "I'm auditioning for the role of Betty Bombshell or whatever. I'll be doing a monologue from Hamlet. And I'll be performing my own song, thank-you-very-much."

She clears her throat and begins her monologue. It's the scene in Hamlet where Ophelia goes completely insane - itself a kind of song - and she does it in a very restrained, non-Jade kind of way. I was expecting it to be kind of over-the-top like she makes her short films, but she makes it simpler than it's meant to be, and it really is quite good. Quietly unsettling, and Sikowitz agrees with me. Her song, on the other hand, is a breath of fresh air compared to the Ginger Fox covers and the show tunes I've been inundated with.

_You think you know me  
__But you don__'__t know me  
__You think you own me  
__But you can__'__t control me  
__You look at me  
And there__'__s just one thing that you see  
__So listen to me  
__Listen to me_

The song's very obviously about Beck, and I can see the back of his head bobbing up and down to the beat. I can tell that his focus is solely on her. I also think that if Sinjin hadn't left with Trina, we'd see him dancing along in the aisles like he normally does during our shows, and the thought makes me smile. I write his name down for a tiny, tiny part in the play that wasn't even on the audition sheet. Because I secretly think he's an alright friend, but because he'll also be busy working on the lights and everything else I have to give him the tiny part in the play.

_You push me back  
__I push you back  
__Harder, harder  
__You scream at me  
__I scream at you  
__Louder, l-l-l-l-louder  
__I__'__m dangerous, so I__'__m warning you  
__Cause you__'__re not afraid of me  
__And I can__'__t convince you  
__You don__'__t know me_

The song is rocky and punky and it's the right kind of song to show off her singing abilities. I decide right then and there that Jade West will be the lead in the play, opposite Robbie. I whisper to Sikowitz about it and he agrees with a giggle or two or eight or ten.

"Her monologue gave me a bad trip, but now I'm having a good trip!" he says. I just put my head in my hands.

* * *

The auditions finish, and I consult Sikowitz on the rest of the roles as the auditorium empties out. I see Beck and Jade leave with his arm around her shoulders, his smile glowing. I'm jealous, and I know that I'm not ignoring or pretending my feelings for Jade are any less than what they are. I have a crush, an honest to goodness blush-in-the-face crush. Which is so not necessary to my soon-to-be-hectic schedule, but I'll deal with it when the time comes.

The play gets the roles filled out completely, and everyone from Trina to Andre are in the play in one role or another. It's Saturday night, and I'm wiped, and I still have science homework to do. I post the roles list on the door of the Black Box and wash my hands clean of the play for the weekend. I'm exhaling loudly and quite thankful for it. No more Betty Bombshell, no more thinking about Jade, no more stress other than my homework until Monday morning. It feels good.

We're well on our way now. Off and rolling and ready to knock it out of the park.


	11. Chapter 11

**JADE**

It's Saturday night, just after the auditions. And what can I say? Beck and I nailed them. For the first time in a very long time, I was actually nervous for an audition. And yes, we can put the blame on Tori Vega. That dream I had of us dancing together, the fact the script was obviously inspired by what I said, all of it. The butterflies in my stomach threatened to make me throw up, and I don't ever throw up. It's gross, the same way sweating is gross.

But I did my audition, and I used an old song about Beck I had written a while ago. Whatever. It felt right, I guess. And Beck had done his serious-acting thing and it was great, too. Again, whatever. Maybe he took a misstep when he decided that giving a serious performance for a play that wasn't tonally all that serious in the first place. But I can't judge.

How does that song go? _If you try the best you can, the best you can is good enough_.

That pretty much sums it up. Whatever. Whatever, forever.

Beck, Robbie, Cat, Andre, Trina and I are floating on a cloud as we hang out in the parking lot after our trials on stage. We decide that we're not going to wait around for Tori, despite the fact that I argue - to strange looks from people - that she's our friend and that we should wait at least a minute or two. She'd also be a good buffer for Trina who is her usual annoying self but with the added ridiculous nonsense of complaining that Sinjin couldn't hang out because of his sister or something.

"Why do you like that guy so much anyway?" Andre asks as we all pile into Robbie's minivan and decide to head over to the diner we've decided is our new, cool hangout. I look back at the school, where Tori hasn't left yet, and think momentarily of texting her.

"I don't like him," Trina says casually into her fingernails as she looks to see if they're just perfect or whatever it is she does.

Everyone pauses and looks at each other and her and the CD player in the car whizzes to life as Robbie turns on the engine.

"I _love _him," Trina says with a distinct tone of husky, primal desire in her voice. We all groan in unison.

"Ugh," I say. "Why?" It's quite derisive and I'm pleased with myself for it. Beck settles - finally, jeez - into his seat and puts his arm around me. Trina rolls her eyes as exaggeratedly as possible.

"You wouldn't get it, even if I explained it to you," she says. "Love is love is love is love is love!" she exclaims, beginning to hum the Ginger Fox song where she stole that whole love thing from. Cat giggles and hums along too, bobbing her head to the humming.

"Maybe," Cat starts, "Maybe Sinjin has a big…you know…dick…" she trails off as Beck and Andre make noises and Robbie almost swerves the car off the highway in horror. I screech in annoyance and promise myself that this is the first thing I tell Tori when I see her.

"Well…" Trina herself trails off with a wide, suggestive smile. The guys all groan loudly.

"We really gonna have lady talk in this van?" Andre asks out loud, upset and annoyed.

"This is usually a man van!" Beck says. "Right, Rob?"

"Yeah! Sinjin's wing-wang is the last thing I need as a driving distraction," Robbie says with a shudder. He changes lanes carefully and I roll my eyes at his total dork robot behaviour.

"Whatever!" I call out, to interrupt. "How'd you guys think our stupid auditions went?"

"Perfect, as usual," Trina drawls almost immediately. Everyone silently rolls their eyes.

"Ah, I dunno," Robbie volunteers. "I figure I'm good enough for the small role or whatever. Helping out Sinjin…" - Robbie's briefly interrupted by a lovelorn sigh from Trina - "…is probably what I'll end up doing. Easier to get an 'A' that way, I guess."

"I think you did great!" Cat says, patting him on the head from the passenger seat. More eye rolls from the rest of us.

"They are too obvious," Beck whispers to me.

"Too oblivious, more like it," I reply back in my own whisper.

* * *

We're at our usual booth in the diner and our usual waitress recognizes us and gets us our usual drink orders as we pour over the menus. It's all the same interchangeable greasy junk anyways. What's the point of looking? I saw the grill one time when I was walking to the washroom, and that thing hasn't been cleaned since the 80s, at least. But still, it's delicious, and for once there's a great place to go on a Saturday night that isn't terrible and all kinds of Los Angeles snooty and exclusive and super-expensive.

It's great except for, of course, the three girls from Northridge seemingly always being here. The slutty little arsonists Candy, Desiree, and Alexis. All stripper names, of course. All at the stools at the counter dressed like prostitutes or something. All making googly eyes at the Beck, Andre, and Robbie. Only Andre should be making any eyes back if he wants to.

For some reason, I decide to leave Beck alone on this one. Decide - for once this century - that it's better to not start a fight.

"I love his hair. And his glasses. And his skinny jeans," Trina prattles on, high-pitched and dreamy like Cat. "And his skin. And his voice. And his…"

"Enough! Enough about Van Cleef! Damn, Trina!" Andre interrupts. The forks and knives rattle as he hit's the table with his hand. "We get it!"

"You're just mad because I'm the only one here in a happy, normal relationship!" Trina replies.

"Excuse me?" I intone darkly. She just rolls her eyes.

"You know what I mean," is all she says back.

"No I don't. Care to go over that one with me?" I intone even more darkly than before. Cat squeaks out a distress signal and Robbie coughs into his water. Andre pretends his phone has about a billion text messages on it.

"Everyone knows that you and Beck aren't happy and normal. Right Beck?" she asks. I look at him, expectantly. I've changed my mind. I want to start a fight. With anyone. Why can't Tori be here so we can all talk about play bullshit?

"Can we please not have this talk right now?" Beck whines out, exasperated.

"We're having this talk!" I exclaim forcefully. "Aren't we normal and happy, Beck?"

"Oh, very clearly," he says sarcastically.

"OH!" is all I can say, and I bring my deepest, darkest horror-villain tone with it.

"Trouble in paradise?" asks a sickly sweet voice. It's Desiree, the blonde arsonist Northridge bitchy-face ho-bag. She stands in front of us, looming like a movie villain. "I've got just the remedy for that," she says suggestively to Beck, wagging her eyebrows and leaning forward to expose cleavage. All fake-tanned and definitely not as nice and impressive as I can pull off. Cat giggles loudly before laughing.

"Remedy! Like she'd ever be a doctor!" she laughs. It's mean and Catty and I love her for the little friendly backup she unwittingly provides as she continues to laugh.

"Shutup you giggly retard," says Desiree, and Cat definitely does so, doing her quietly sad thing. The Gank From Northridge looks back to Beck, who, thankfully, looks annoyed at how straight-up mean and stupid this girl is. Robbie's unreadable. I wish he would do the knight-in-shining-armour thing for Cat, but I don't think he has the testosterone for it yet.

"So, whaddya say Mr. Sexy Smile? Ditch your fat bitch girlfriend and use me up and down," Desiree reiterates. Like a cartoon character, she lifts her shirt up a little bit, teasing her flat stomach and "E-Z Ryder" tattoo. I have other things on my mind though, and I shoot up from the booth and get right up in her face, glaring at her as fiercely as possible.

"_Fat_? _Bitch_?" I ask severely. With Sinjin or Burf or Robbie or anyone, it would be enough to make them piss their pants. But Northridge girls are built a little differently, a little crazier. She gets even closer to me, glaring just as hard back.

"That's right," she says. "Dyke goth bitch!" she spits out at me. I go to swing at her, but I find Robbie, Andre, and Beck holding me back. From nowhere, Alexis and Candy are behind Desiree, holding her back by the shoulders. But not trying hard enough, and smiling wide and knowingly.

"Easy, tigress," they tell Desiree. "Some other time."

"I'll be waiting," I say. "With the sharpest pair of scissors you've ever seen."

"Big fat elephants never forget, am I right?" Desiree sneers out, while I stare her down, deep into her eyes. "Fat" and "Bitch" are repeated by Candy and Alexis as they walk away, giggling and whispering to themselves.

When I turn around, Cat and Robbie are getting ready to go. Andre is throwing money down on the table to pay for our drinks. Beck, with his arm around my waist, guides me out the front door in hasty exit.

"That could have gone a lot worse," he says.

* * *

It's dark outside as Beck leads me into his RV. It feels like a heavy black cloud has fallen over the mood of everyone. Driving through L.A. in Robbie's van, was a mostly silent affair punctuated by Trina's exasperated - and kind of endearing in a way - dislike of the Northridge girls. Every time she'd try to start a bitching session, it wouldn't really go anywhere. The high that everyone had been floating on after the auditions had died an agonizing death and it was my fault.

My temper's fault. Whatever.

Beck puts on some mood lighting and soft music and sits on the edge of the bed. I just stand at the door to his RV, unsure if I want to come in or not. He's not looking for sex, I don't think. But this intimacy thing is, you know, kind of hard. Considering the circumstances.

He pats the bed next to himself, motioning for me to sit down. I drop my purse noisily by the door and flop next to him. He both hunch over, staring at the carpeting of his RV.

"You going to be alright?" he asks me. He puts his hand on my back, rubbing it, calming me down, making it warm. I don't answer him. Or I take a deep breath and exhale loudly as my answer.

"It's just…" I start. But I don't finish right away. I feel blank. Empty. There's the one thing that bothers me. "Maybe we really are a bad couple. We can be really toxic to our friends sometimes."

"It didn't bother you before," he replies.

"It bothers me now."

"Maybe you're growing up?"

"Is that what they call it?" We both chuckle a little, and lean back on his bed. Our feet still on the ground, our backs in his blankets. I can smell him on them. He needs to wash them pretty badly.

More music floats in the air, more silence comes from the two of us.

"Have you thought any more about the camping trip?" Beck asks. Shit, I had forgotten about deciding on our Yosemite Summer Honeymoon Trip Thingy Majig.

"No. It's been Betty Bombshell and not much else," I reply. It makes me blush furiously because suddenly Betty Bombshell is tied to Tori and there's innuendo there that I don't mean. Beck stays in silence, oblivious.

Because shit shit shit Tori Vega. My blush makes it more than apparent to me. My well of feelings in my heated face bubble and flow forth in the quiet music and dim light and solitude of Beck's RV.

The dream. My being kind-of-sort-of-frequently nice to her as the play goes along. The embarrassed flattery I feel at being an inspiration for this play. I'm starting to dig Tori Vega?

No, couldn't be. Or at least, shouldn't be. But shit, it's there in all its stupid, awkward glory. As soon as I think it, the dark shadows of my head tell me that it makes sense. Or as much sense as it's going to make until I have some serious personal time to think it over.

It's in the way she's so…I don't know. Her smile. The way she carries herself. It's like me, but on a…it's on the brighter side of the spectrum. She's me from an alternate universe. Yin and yang and…she's always been there to comfort me…and if she really needed it, deep down, I'd comfort her too and be there for her and…

"You know what?" Beck asks, interrupting my speeding train of thought. "I've been thinking about all this talk about being happy and normal and…things."

"Oh holy chizz, not this again," I implore him.

"It's just that…I don't really care about it," he says. He looks at me and I look back, once again half-forcing out a look I think would please him or continue the conversation in the way I think it's going. Again with the acting. "I love you. You're not easy to date. And I love the challenge. You know? It's just how I feel. Get me?"

I grunt, almost uncommitted to what he's just said. But I softly kiss him on his cheek and forehead and neck to placate him. My mind's messed up, I'm feeling a little fucked up, and this was the worst time ever to figure out that I'm wanting someone and something that isn't Beck. That I want my challenge too, and I'm done with having to playact my emotions when I'm with someone.

But again, this is all just starting up. It's an engine revving, and things that need to be sorted out are never linear, never simple, and never fully ready until every angle is attacked.

The night fades into more kisses and quiet music.

* * *

Monday rolls around and Beck drives me to school. I spent all Sunday not thinking about anything at all except for the stupid science project that's due, and also thinking about how horribly unfair it is to have us work extra hard on the play and keep up with regular homework, and how I haven't even thought about life after Hollywood Arts and how my mom forgot to pick up my favourite yogurt when she was at the store.

Yeah, yeah, I know. Tough stuff, right?

We enter Hollywood Arts and there's already a group mulling around the list of parts posted on the bulletin board. Tori's nowhere to be seen, of course. I can see Cat's red hair bobbing and weaving between people, trying to get close to the list. I charge into the crowd.

"Move!" I yell, scaring some of the sophomores to part ways. I take Beck's hand and grab Cat's, yanking them with me to the front of the group. I shove some people out of the way, slap Burf in the afro. Finally we make it to the board, and I have to gasp a little. Cat gasps too, covering her mouth with her hand.

The board is separated into the main "A" plot and the secondary "B" plot, and Tori's name is up at the top as writer and director, with Sikowitz as "consulting producer" whatever that means.

_Betty Bombshell and the Broken Dreams  
__Written and Directed by Tori Vega, with Erwin Sikowitz as Consulting Producer  
__Opening Night in just one month!  
More info coming soon!_

"_A__"__ GROUP_

_Betty Bombshell - Jade West_

_Ronald Nerdington - Robbie Shapiro _

_Jacob Ripper - Andre Harris_

"_B__"__ GROUP_

_Mary Dogood - Trina Vega_

_Danny Dogood - Beck Oliver_

_Lolita Hazmat - Cat Valentine_

"Oh my chizz!" Cat exclaims. "You got the lead, Jade! You're Betty Bombshell!" She starts laughing and doing her cupcake-power dance around me. I'm in shock, looking at the board in stunned, open-mouthed silence. "And Robbie got the lead! Can you believe it?!" Cat adds on, continuing her dance.

"I…don't believe it," I tell her.

"Either can I," Beck says, and it snaps me away from my shock almost immediately. He's not mad. He's disappointed. He wanted us to be the lead couple. The people with the coolest songs and the coolest lines. We'd shine together under the spotlight.

I give him a look of sympathy. He does look kind of down in his sexy-Beck way. He just sighs and shrugs it off.

"Congrats, baby," he says. He kisses me on the cheek and hugs me. Cat keeps dancing.

* * *

**Thank you to everyone who reviews the story and continues to read it! You guys and gals are great!**

**The song line that Jade thinks of is from "Optimistic" by Radiohead.**

**Because I forgot to mention it in the last chapter, the song Jade sings is Liz Gillie's "You Don't Know Me" which is the best song to ever come out of the show, in my opinion.**


	12. Chapter 12

**TORI**

Once the parts have been announced, we all pour our hearts and souls into the play. We build a set. We start to block. We tinker with the choreography. Notes and script changes are made in little pieces. For hours, days, and weeks. Before, during, and after school.

And all the while, Jade is there. She's the lead. She's Betty Bombshell. Every single major scene requires us together. It almost leads to trouble. I feel the heat over every inch of my skin, over every decision I make in her presence. I'm self-conscious with her around. Sometimes I see her looking at me, and it makes me even more aware of myself. Every cell in my body suddenly becomes awkward and strange and exposed.

One day, we're rehearsing the big kiss she has with Robbie. It comes after a song and dance, and for the life of me, we can't get the location right. The way any play goes, it should happen center-stage. But the best choreography for the scene has the two of them ending up on the opposite side of the stage. It's befuddling, and there's no natural or organic way to get them together into the spotlight and get it done. They have a void between them that can't be breached in any easy way.

Sounds familiar, I guess.

"Maybe," Jade said, "The best way to do it, is to have everything up until they part. Then we find a way to keep them together."

She took my hand and we did the moves together, where she took Robbie's spot and I took hers. In the play, the two do an old-fashioned-kind-of-Charleston dance together, facing the crowd. Then they split up to opposite ends where the dancers behind them follow the two.

So, hand in hand, we danced together, facing the imaginary crowd in front of us. When it came to the part where Robbie and Jade are supposed to split up, we stopped dancing. But she kept my hand in hers. I looked at her face, but she wasn't looking at me. She was making her deep-thinking face, which almost looks like it's worried, but it's also distant.

"What do you think, dork?" she said to Robbie, still holding my hand. Robbie had been doing his chin-on-hand-thing as he thought really hard about the moves. But then he brightened up in a smile, an "a-ha" moment.

"I got it!" he exclaimed, and hopped up on to the stage. He didn't switch places with me like he thought I would. He made us do the last steps again, but rather than having us split apart like what would happen in the play, he pushed us close together. Face-to-face even. "Now dance together!" he exclaimed.

Jade just looked at me.

"Don't be shy," she had said, grinning at me like the time I searched her for scissors around Christmas that one time. "How about this?" she asked. She put my right hand on her hip and my left hand in hers, holding it out. We spun and danced, a very-much 50s-style dance you might see in a movie like _Singing in the Rain_ or whatever. The dance ended with the two of face to face and breathing hard.

All I could do was stare into her eyes, and she was staring back. Her eyes bore into mine, and I couldn't look away. I was taken unawares.

"That's awesome!" exclaimed both Robbie and the choreographer, a Spanish girl named Gabriella. "That works perfectly!" Robbie slotted himself back into his spot and they did the moves together a couple of times. It looked great. Gabriella began to talk to the background dancers to make sure they looked good, but unobtrusive, to what Robbie and Jade were now doing.

Despite the triumph of what we had accomplished, I had still felt confused and empty. I wanted to be back on stage, looking into her eyes all over again.

But those feelings faded, because it's the play over everything. Everyone working their asses off, grinding to the bones for days on end. We were all fighting extra hard to make this something special. Jade, despite her usual air of apathy, had also begun to warm up to the hard work it took to be in the play. Not just being the lead, but she'd stay late to cleanup or hangout with us.

It's still hard work, though, and more often than not, people were beginning to tire of the routine. We were all sore and tired after almost a month straight of non-stop working. It's Friday now, two weeks from the play, and the happy moods and jokes and loose atmosphere of previous days had been replaced with knotted shoulders and silent determination. People did their work, but they didn't necessarily look like they were enjoying themselves anymore.

After the third go-through for the opening song, Andre finally had enough.

"I've had enough!" he yelled. "Damn! I'm sorry, Tor, but I gotta have a break! A man's got needs! And I need to take some time off!"

There were some nods and grumbles coming from the crowd. Trina was louder than everyone else, of course.

"You're making her sound like Hitler! Working you to the bone under an iron fist or something!" Jade spits out to him, and she steps in front of me. To block me? Like he's gonna hit me or something? I don't think so.

"That's not what I meant! Always twisting my words around!" Andre says, his shoulders shrugging, his palms out, and the pitch of his voice to something so high only dogs can hear most of it.

"I think we just need a stress buster!" Cat says, backing up Andre. "Something that doesn't have to do with the play for once!"

Jade looks at me, searching my face for agreement. But it changes back to her usual apathy look and she goes over by Beck.

"Whatever. It's Vega's play, make her make the decision," is what she tells the group. I can see that everyone from Sinjin to Jade to the lowly production assistants who's names I've forgotten are all waiting for me to give them the go-ahead to do…whatever.

"Why are you always telling me that I have to do anything? Like, every week?" I ask Jade, maybe more shrill than I mean to. She just shrugs.

"You're the director. And Sikowitz is off doing that supermodel or whatever," she deadpans. "So you're the boss, applesauce."

I can hear pleads from the people in the gathered crowd. To have a night off. That it's just before dinner and that Friday night could be fun again and that things could be put off just for one day.

"Fine!" I state, bewildered and flummoxed at the attention I always seem to get thrown my way. "But tomorrow afternoon we're right back at it, okay? Be here at 2!"

Cheers from people. The scraping of seats and that distinctive sound of backpacks being picked up and papers being put away and all of that stuff. Andre, Cat, Robbie, Jade, Trina, Sinjin, and Beck gather around me and smile.

"We should totally and completely do something amazing tonight!" Trina exclaims.

"M'lady makes an excellent point," Sinjin says, putting his arm around her.

"I'm so, so, so, so down!" Cat yells. To me: "Bibble hunt?" To Robbie: "Bibble hunt?" To Jade: "Bibble hunt?"

"No!" Jade yells out. "No Bibble! No cupcakes or candy factories or whatever!"

"A special night…" Beck trails off. He rubs his hand through his hair, thoughtfully.

"A party night," Andre tacks on. "With ladies."

"It's the end of the school year, almost!" says Robbie. "Let's absolutely go for it!"

"Your fly's down," Beck says, and Robbie immediately looks to fix it.

"How about…" Jade starts. "The Karaoke Dokie?" Cat laughs and gives her a high-five she reluctantly agrees to.

"I could go for some Buffalo Nuggets," I agree. Jade winks at me and I immediately stare at my feet.

"Yes! I'm singing first!" Trina calls out.

"Wait!" Jade screeches, crossing her arms in front of her. "If it's going to be special…" she trails off, looking at me. "We should dress up."

"What, like, in costumes?" Cat asks hopefully, with Beck, Andre, and Robbie looking aghast.

"No," Jade answers. "I mean, like, looking nicer than slobs."

I look around at us, in our collection of old hoodies, sweatpants, and theatre-practise clothes. I nod in agreement with her.

"Sounds good to me," I say, and smile at her. She smiles back, but there's something behind her eyes that I can't quite place.

We all grab our stuff and head out the back door of the theatre, and into the parking lot. The sun is halfway through setting, and a deep, dark orange paints everything.

"We going to meet at the diner?" I ask quite cheerfully as Trina and I split off from everyone to head to her car. They just stop in their tracks and shake their heads. Trina grabs my arm and yanks me away from the looks.

"It's a long, long story. I'll tell you in the car," Trina says.

"Be safe, m'lady!" Sinjin calls out to her, waving from the bike rack. Trina winks at him, and lifts her breast to her mouth, pretending to lick her nipple. Everyone else groans in terror and disgust.

* * *

I don't know what to wear. Typical. What did Jade mean by _dressing up_? Like at Prome? Like…just a nice night out? It's hard to tell. Digging around in my closet, I can hear Trina puttering outside my room and all about the top floor of the house. Heading between bathroom and hallway and bedroom, singing her song from the play in a happy, giggly way.

Say what you will about Trina, but at least she's comfortable about herself. It takes a lot of balls, guts, whatever, to be so optimistic about your ability. To be _so sure in everything you do_. That conviction. Jade's like Trina, in that way at least. She has that strength of conviction. That knowledge of talent, straight up.

Jade. Shit.

I'm not a lesbian. I don't think. I've liked cute guys! I've had boyfriends! I've done stuff to them and they've done stuff to me, and I've liked it! Abs and broad shoulders and muscles are pretty great on a guy!

But…Jade.

Her smile. Her eyes. Her hair. Her skin. Her legs. The way she makes me want to challenge myself. How when she takes away her brashness, there's that warmth to her. How when she sings, she lets herself go.

I think about her jumping on Sikowitz' desk, of her kicking all those papers. That short burst of energy. Looking like there's a wildfire under her skin. Jade West is going to grab the world and shake it loose until she gets what she wants. And she's going to be beautiful doing it.

Deep down, I want that. Not in myself. I want to bathe in the glow it gives off. To be a part of her reflection. It doesn't matter if she's a girl. Her curves work for her, just adding another piece to her whole. If she didn't look the way she did, it would take away from her wholeness. But even now, when I think of how she sneers at something silly, or how she holds out her hand and demands money from Beck for something at the Asphalt Café, there's that familiar tingling. That familiar warmth in the back of my head, my chest, my stomach and between my legs and I know that I'm attracted to her. It doesn't make me "a lesbian". It doesn't make me "bi-curious" or whatever.

It makes me in love.

And just like magic, I see the shirt I want to wear, and I see the jeans I want to wear. I briefly picture just how good I'll look. I briefly picture Jade doing a double-take. Deep down I want her to be attracted to me as well. I quietly hope that this sort of thing'll do the trick.

I join Trina in happy singing and moving around the top floor, applying our makeup and sharing a hair curler and getting ready to sing our lungs out at Karaoke Dokie. Tonight's going to be a great, great night. I'm going to make sure of it.

* * *

We arrive a little late, of course. Jade texts me, wondering where I am. My heart skips a beat when my PearPhone buzzes and its her. Stupid crushes are stupid. But parking's tough and L.A. traffic is a nightmare and we end up about twenty minutes late.

Karaoke Dokie is busy tonight, and after a little lineup we head in. The blast of the place hits full on. The shimmering colours, the black stage, the giant screens. The smell of drinks and food and sweat and energy. I look past the stage and point Trina's gaze to a booth in the far corner. The Hollywood Arts gang.

Cat, in an even smaller - if that was possible - pink frilly dress, sits next to a tidied up and hoody-bedecked Robbie. Squeezed next to them is Sinjin, texting on his phone. Beck and Andre are next, looking good as usual and arguing over what to eat as usual. Trina rushes over to Sinjin and pulls a chair across from him, and I wonder just how much leg she's actually showing and if her blue shorts were gotten from the children's section.

I can feel the stress being released, the tension leaving my shoulders. The magic of Karaoke Dokie. I didn't realize how much I actually needed this, how cramped the actual theatre was. How I needed to shake loose and let go, even if it just for one night. I feel a shiver run up my spine in anticipation and excitement, one that raises goosebumps on my arms.

I sit next to Trina, across from Andre and he smiles at me, pointing to the menu as lights swirl and some girls sing. He taps his finger on Extra Large Nacho Fries and nods, basically asking if I want in on it myself. I smile and nod back to him, leaning in to talk in over a loud, bad rendition of "Love Will Tear Us Apart".

"Where's Jade?" I ask.

"Getting drinks," Andre replies with a shrug. "She's getting you and Trina drinks too. Cause you're late."

"Yeah, I know. Thanks."

I turn towards the juice bar trying to catch Jade, but I don't see her. I realize in that moment that I'm just a stupid little sap right now, obsessing and digressing into a crush because that's what I'm always doing. With Stephen and Todd and Moose and the other guys. I'd define myself by them, and now I'm throwing that into Jade. I shake my head and get those fuzzy brain feelings out.

It's going to be different with Jade. If Jade was even a possibility. I can't come right out and say it because holy-shit-she's-a-girl and she's also dating Beck. So I have to deal with not only letting loose of stress, but letting go of old behaviours too.

The song ends and everyone politely claps as the two girls who were singing beam and wave to their table. The MC - a blonde guy with a terrible suit on - takes their microphones and blows into one.

"How about that?! Great job guys!" he exclaims in that weird false way that all hype men are like. He leads some more clapping before producing a cue card. He looks at it briefly. "Next up we have…all the way from Northridge…Alexis, Candy, and…Desiree!" Cheers rise up from the audience, but not our booth. In fact, I'm pretty sure we all look disturbed and uncomfortable, like that time Sikowitz's flannel pants had an all-too-revealing hole in the front of them. The three girls we want to see least in the whole world are here and they might be trouble.

"They'll let any type of trash in here," Jade says as she plops down next to Beck in the booth. She shoots the three girls on stage a look of venom before handing out a bunch of drinks from a tray she had brought along with her. She hands me a fruit punch in a perspiring glass and I say thanks. In the lights, I don't get a good look at her, and she doesn't seem to pay me any attention.

"And what song will you _fine fine fine _young Northridge ladies be singing tonight?" the MC asks, handing them his microphone before giving them two others to round it out. Whoever the brunette is smiles a big, white, gross, beauty-pageant smile.

"Some Rihanna," she coos out. The men - the boys, really - in the place go wild. Robbie, Beck, and Andre shake their heads and the music gets going.

I turn back to the booth and everyone looks sullen and annoyed.

"It's like they're following us!" Beck calls out and there are some nods amongst everyone.

"No we're not!" calls out a voice, and out of nowhere, Sikowitz has appeared with a bored-looking Melanie on his arm. I nearly jump out of my seat.

"What are you doing here?" Cat asks. The boys just stare at Melanie, googly-eyed.

"What do you mean?" Sikowitz asks in return. "Shouldn't you kids be working on the play?"

"We're taking a night off, so scram!" Jade yells. Sikowitz just rolls his eyes and points to the stage.

"You keep acting like a gank, you'll end up just like those ganks up there," he says. "That's my teacherly advice for the night." He starts to walk away, but comes back, as if remembering something. "Also, don't do drugs tonight, kids. Karaoke on drugs isn't good."

And with that he's gone.

"Dude's like a damn genie," Andre says. Robbie and Beck nod in agreement.

"Haha! I Dream of Sikowitz!" Cat says, but she gasps at it's innuendo, or something else, I don't know.

A waitress comes over and takes our order, and Jade chastises her for taking too long. Beck rolls his eyes and heads to the stage with Andre to do a duet, and Cat immediately leaps over Robbie and shimmies her butt down the booth and she stares at Jade hopefully. Jade just stares at the ceiling.

"No," Jade says with aplomb.

"Plleasssse?" Cat pleads.

"No."

"Pretty please?"

"N-O, no!" she yells.

"But I like being your duet buddy!"

"Well, too bad."

Cat looks sad, but Robbie puts his hand on her shoulder.

"I'll duet with you," he says. She brightens up considerably, and the two leave the booth. Sinjin and Trina leave to dance, and I realize that we're the only ones at our booth right now. I sip my drink and the Rihanna song by the Northridge trio ends with hoots and hollers from the guys of Karaoke Dokie.

Looking towards Jade, I see that she rolls her eyes around and looks at me. I smile at her, hold up my glass.

"Thanks again for the drink," I say.

"Whatever."

"Yeah."

Some guy I recognize as a freshman from Hollywood Arts takes the microphone to do some crappy acoustic song that was big a long time ago and was a one-hit-wonder.

"Hey, Vega," Jade says, looking at me. "Do you think I'm as bad as those Northridge sluts?"

I nearly spit out my drink.

"What?"

"You heard me," she says with a look down to her hands.

"What makes you think you're as bad as those girls?" She just shrugs.

"The way people are talking, I guess."

Right now, in this moment, she looks more vulnerable than I'm used to seeing her. She looks small, and in the music and lights, she looks out of place. I've never known her to actually care about what other people say.

"So?" she goes on. "What is it, Vega? Am I total and complete shithead?"

"No," I say almost immediately. "You're…you're great. Greater than a lot of people I know."

And we look each other in the eye and smile at one another, but I can't maintain it. I look down into my drink and chug the rest of it. Anything to distract me from the feelings I'm having right now. It doesn't help in the lights and with the soundtrack coming from the speakers in the place. It feels like something out of a stupid movie.

I get up and go to order another drink. It's something do, it's purpose clear. It's the one thing I'm certain of in this tiny, tiny microcosmic moment.

* * *

**A/N - Thank you everyone for the continued support! I know it's a slow burn of a story and that the Jori isn't moving fast, but I like it this way, I guess.**


	13. Chapter 13

**JADE**

I nearly spilled all the drinks all over the floor the moment I saw Tori sitting next to her stupid sister. Tori-freaking-Vega looks Tori-freaking-good tonight. Nice jeans, nice t-shirt, with all her little knick-knacks and accessories. And of course everyone has to get up to leave and do their own thing. Because it's that kind of stupid night and stupid me, it was my suggestion.

Tori awkwardly leaves to get another drink because she's probably sick of me by now and I get it. This play has been a tough job. But thank God for tonight. I look into my soda and close my eyes. I try to block out the noise, try to block out the people, try to figure out what I need to get out of this evening. The tension in my shoulders, the stiffness in every muscle. It needs to go. I need to feel lighter than air. Relaxed for once in my life.

I feel someone plop down next to me and I open my eyes. It's Tori, and my heart leaps a little.

"Sleeping?" she asks with a big, white smile.

"Not really," I tell her, smiling back. "Getting into a zone. I needed tonight. I'm trying to ignore those Northridge girls and everything else."

"Yeah, I heard about that," she says to me. "What a bunch of jerks. I would have totally got your back, if I had been there."

"Oh, please," I say sarcastically, rolling my eyes involuntarily. "Like you could take them on, with or without me." I put on the sweet-Southern voice. "I'm such a wilting flower, mah dears!"

She actually laughs at that, sips her fruit punch.

"You're getting better at that," she says.

"Well, you know how you get to Carnegie? Practise."

"If there's one person here who'll be playing Carnegie one day, it'll be you." She says it with such seriousness, with such a look in her eye, with such affirmation that I can't help but smile at her. I hide the heat in my face by changing the subject almost right away.

"Just because you're my director and…I guess my friend…doesn't mean I have to take every compliment you throw out with a hug and whatever." I pause and think it over, looking up to the ceiling for a moment. Willing myself to say something that isn't terrible. "But maybe for this one."

I smile at her, and she smiles back, and for a little moment, maybe too long of a moment, because I can feel my heart swelling and growing, and my stomach filling with butterflies. I'm dating Beck, and I'm not exactly a lesbian or anything. So what's my stupid, silly, dumb, life-falteringly deal with torturing myself over Vega? My dream and how clear she looked in it is one thing, and it passes in a flash across my eyes.

"You, uh, look really good tonight," I tell her, motioning up and down with my hand. She buries herself into her punch, hopefully flattered.

"Thanks. You look, uh, really, really awesome." I look down at myself. Tight black pants, classier than yoga pants. And a tight black shirt that showed off what my mom would say is "just way too much cleavage, good lord, Jade."

The funny thing is that Beck doesn't even really go for my boobs. He likes my legs more than anything. But I threw this on because, hey, _I like my boobs so I__'__ll do what I want. _And what kind of guy likes legs more than boobs? Maybe I did this for Tori? Maybe she likes my boobs?

"My mom would kill me if she knew I was out with this much boob showing," I tell Tori. She just blushes and looks down at herself.

"At least you've got something to show off," she says. I groan in an overly exasperated way.

"Seriously Vega?" I ask with a big jokey smile on my face. "We're friends now and we're gonna compare our chests? Cat and I already went through this and it's a game no-one wins!"

She laughs and shrugs, and I sip my drink through a wide smile.

"You've had way more boyfriends than I have," I tell her, matter-of-factly. "So I highly doubt you're being held back by whatever it is you think you have or don't have."

"Not, you know, _way more_," she says. "Just a few."

"Well there was…" I start, but she interrupts.

"Can we please not talk about boys?" It's exasperated, desperate.

"Come on, we're friends now. First we talk about boobs and then boys and then whatever else ladies talk about."

"Alright," she challenges, tapping her hand loudly on the table. "How about we talk about you and Cat syncing your periods?"

I look at her, aghast, my mouth open. _Damn that Cat spreading every stupid thing. _Vega smiles wide, seeing she's got the upper hand on whatever it is we were talking about.

"I'm going to kill that red-headed little…" I start. And right on cue, we hear her high-pitched coo through Karaoke Dokie's sound system. Robbie's next to her, squinting in the spotlight, and the two are sharing a microphone. They begin to belt out a song from that stupid 80s small town dancing movie.

"Alright, real girl talk this time," Tori says, leaning in conspiratorially. "What is the deal with Robbie and Cat?"

"The deal being I have no idea what they are," I say, leaning in too and squeezing my boobs together between my crossed arms. She glances at them, and I smirk to myself, feeling pretty good about how I look. "They went to some cupcake factory or something? I don't know."

"They're cute together."

"I guess, but Robbie's hopeless as anything."

"They've kissed."

"He also kissed Trina that one time, right? And you don't see them fawning over each other the same way. Anymore."

"Don't even get me started on Trina!" she exclaims, and we laugh together despite ourselves. The weight and stress from my shoulders lessens.

"I'm sorry your sister is totally getting plowed by Sinjin!" I exclaim to her and she cringes in her cute way, just how I wanted her to react.

"Well, she's happy," she says in all seriousness after her face returns to normal. "That's the right way to look at it, right?"

I just shrug and agree, not really committed to the cause. But she looks into her drink, and I look into mine, and there's a rush of emotion that I can't place. She looks confused and sad, having the emotions flash briefly over her face. It makes me wonder what she's sad and confused about, and I'm going to ask her, but my chest tightens up and the butterflies come back and damn, I'm not supposed to be, like, a total girl.

"Having a boyfriend or whatever isn't a key to happiness," I tell her.

"I know, it's just that…" she trails off.

"Boobs, periods, love lives…we've covered it all," I say, and I move closer to her, and I put my arm around her shoulder. She puts her hand on my hand so that we're both clasping near her heart. "Looks like we're good friends, finally."

She smiles at me, and her big brown eyes don't falter from mine. It's easy to smile with her. There's that excitement. Of something new. Of something strange and beautiful.

Trina and Sinjin plop down across from us, interrupting the little spell Tori and I were in. They're sweaty from dancing - I hope to God they've been dancing - and grin at us.

"Do you want to do a duet?" I ask Tori, almost immediately. Like I've been caught doing something wrong. Like I'm keeping a secret. Which I am, but whatever. She thinks about it for a second but agrees and gets up from the booth.

"I'm picking the song," I tell her more-than-matter-of-factly.

* * *

We walked by Sikowitz and his lady. He looked a little…drunk? Whatever Sikowitz looks like but with, like, extra coconut stuff through his blood stream. His supermodel girlfriend was rubbing his chest and telling him how manly he was, which made both Tori and I gag a little.

We also passed by the three Northridge ass-gank-jerky-jerks who make me feel terrible when really, I shouldn't feel terrible because they're the ones who are…

Alright, breathe a little Jade.

Anyways, we passed by them, but luckily they had their back to us at the bar, trying to seduce the bartender to ignore the big black "X" marked on the back of their hands and give them some booze. It was working, but whatever, it gave me a great idea. Or at least a reasonable idea.

That electricity I get where I'm performing builds momentum. I'm born to do this, this is what I do best in the whole world. And I'll be sharing the stage with a girl I'm falling head over heels for.

So now Tori and I stand by the stage, waiting to be called out. I picked a song out of a great movie I saw, and I knew it would play to our strengths really well. It's sexy, it's a little dark, it's fun. It would also…

"Alright!" calls out the MC, interrupting my train of thought. "Next up we have some more Hollywood Arts peeps rocking our mics tonight! Give it up for…Tori Vega and Jade West!" Ugh, he actually said "peeps".

We go up under the spotlight, and we can hear cheers from the crowd. Louder at our booth where everyone we know is, mixed with boos from the Northridge girls by the bar. Good. They did exactly what they should have done.

I yank the microphone from the MC as Tori takes her own, and I sneer into it. The guitar starts up, building slowly.

"This little ditty goes out to those three little Northridge sluts in here tonight!" I call out into the crowd. Tori looks shocked, but beneath that look is a playful smirk she can't help. One that mirrors my own.

"You're going to get us killed!" she whispers into my ear. I just shrug and pinch her hip playfully.

"Live fast, die young, leave a very sexy corpse," I tell her, in a perfectly authoritative way. "But right now, we have a song to sing."

The bass and the drums kick in, and now it's time for us to look at the screen and follow along with the words.

_Hello again, friend of a friend  
I knew you when  
Our common goal was waiting for the world to end  
Now that the truth is just a rule that you can bend  
You crack the whip  
Shape-shift and trick  
The past again_

Sinjin's up, doing his wavy-arm dance. So I know that means we're rocking. It feels good. None of this pop shit I have to sing all the time at Hollywood Arts. And Tori knows how to rock too, seeing how easy it is for her to jump around the stage. How good she looks prancing in her clothes.

_I'll send you my love on a wire  
Lift you up every time  
Everyone  
Pulls away  
From you_

I hope those Northridge girls are completely pissed right now. It gives me energy, more power in my voice. What did Dad call it? Schadenfreude. I grab Tori's hand and we dance a little together.

_Got balls of steel  
Got an automobile for a minimum wage  
Got real estate  
I'm buying it all up in outer space  
Now that the truth is just a rule that you can bend  
You crack the whip  
Shape-shift and trick  
The past again_

And the song ends and we give the microphones back to the MC and there's nothing but buzzing in my ears because I feel pretty damn good.

"A-plus work, girls!" Sikowitz shouts to us as Beck and the others crowd around. Beck gives me a kiss on the cheek and Tori is immediately absconded by Cat and Robbie and they give her praise. We're in a throng of our friends congratulating us as we head back to the booth and sit in our seats to keep the night going. We sit down, Beck on my right, Tori on my left, and it's a little awkward and crammed together, but we make the seating arrangement work.

Sikowitz - and his model girlfriend whose name I can't remember for the life of me - eventually come over and join us. It's not as weird as I would think it would be, and Sikowitz clearly enjoys the attention the boys give to his girlfriend. We're all stuffed shoulder-to-shoulder and it's getting incredibly warm.

Beck gives me another kiss and awkwardly leaves the booth, squeezing past us. Under the table, Tori puts her hand on mine, and keeps it there. My heart does about a billion somersaults but I will myself to never, ever move my hand.

"Thank you," Tori says into my ear. "I think we did really great!" She almost squeals that last part.

"You're a good duet partner," I whisper. "But don't tell Cat!"

"Oh, there was no chance of that, ever!" She squeezes my hand tighter, but lets go of it and goes on talking with Trina about something.

The cool air she leaves behind feels kind of empty and cool and wrong. I sigh and turn my attention to a joke Robbie wants to tell, barely knowing what to do with myself.

* * *

The song is "Black Sheep" by Metric. The movie it's in is "Scott Pilgrim vs. the World" and it's probably, like, the best movie ever made, ever. Also, if you're enjoying their night out, this is most definitely not the end of it!


	14. Chapter 14

**TORI**

Beck comes stumbling back from the bathroom, looking like he's made the discovery of a lifetime. He looks totally and completely jazzed, standing over our booth. I look at Jade, who's her usual sceptical self, but she looks up at him expectantly, like everyone else. I can see why Jade likes him. He commands a room when he wants to.

"Guys! Guys! Recognize that dude over there?" he asks, pointing to a big, bald, bouncer-looking-guy with a leather vest on. I can see him mouthing along to some girls singing "We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together".

"Wait…yeah…" I tell him, because I totally do recognize him. I can't place him, but his fierce frown and bulging neck vein are definitely familiar.

"He has a tattoo!" Cat exclaims in her matter-of-fact way. She probably means the one he has on his forehead. In beautiful, curved script are the words (word?) "BORN2FUCK" in dark ink.

"Oh my…" Sikowitz trails off, a little apprehensive.

"He's the bouncer from the Gorilla Club!" Jade exclaims, and it finally sets in.

"Yep!" Beck says. "And he knew who we were from the time you beat the gorilla, Tor."

I look at Jade, sheepish, and she just grins wickedly at me.

"Adorable," she says. Robbie and Andre tighten up, straightening their posture. They clearly fear more Hammertime. "I definitely remember that."

How can she lace her voice with so much threat, but still have a little smile? Its kind of sexy in a way.

"Anyways," Beck starts. "He says that there is a _huge, huge, huge_ party going on right now in the Valley. The biggest blowout ever."

"How doth he know about these festivities?" Sinjin asks.

"His brother just got out of prison and it's his homecoming party."

"Kids, that sounds like a rough scene," Sikowitz intones. "But then again, technically, I shouldn't even be here."

"If the school's cool with us sleeping over at your house, then they cool with you partying with us," Andre says with a quick tilt of his head.

"It's not that. I just remembered, I'm banned from the Karaoke Dokie." He gets up and grabs Melanie's hand, and they're gone in a flash. A security guy wearing sunglasses walks by, scanning the room for signs of trouble.

"Bye bye!" Cat waves to no one in particular.

"So, what do you guys say?" Beck asks. "Party of the year?"

I look at Jade - trying very hard to ignore her cleavage - for any sign of anything. I'll do whatever she wants to do, and I've made up my mind to follow that line of thinking.

"It soundeth amazing!" Sinjin throws in.

"Don't just add eth on to the end of things, damn," says Andre.

"We in?" Beck asks again, more directed at Jade than anything else.

"I'm in," Jade replies.

"Me too," I say after her, almost too quickly. I play it off like I want to be the center of attention which works, a little bit, at least.

Everyone else soon agrees, and after settling the bills, we grab our coats and head off. There's this new feeling in the air, something that I can't place.

* * *

In the parking lot, we look at Robbie's minivan and sigh. There's no way that it's even going to hold all of us.

"Great, what now?" Jade asks, looking to Robbie for an answer. He just shrugs.

"Maybe some of you don't have to find booze to drink," he says. "And we can have more than one driver."

This is shot down almost immediately, as Beck and Andre kind of want to let loose tonight. Jade shrugs at all the enthusiasm, probably thinking that drinking is part of our destiny tonight.

The strange thing about Hollywood Arts, or at least one of the stranger things about it, is that its always been a kind of weird PG place to be. For a liberal arts school filled with teenage hormones, pranks, and various miscellaneous mischief. Other than the occasional odd event and the innuendos and all that other stuff, it's been a safe haven. No one really spikes the punch at parties, unless it's with a hot-dog weiner.

But now we're heading a little farther from home, far from Hollywood Arts. We're not in PG territory anymore, and you can tell right away. That was the weirdness in the air. The hint of danger that pervaded throughout. That tonight, things might actually happen!

We decide to just all cram into the damn van. And interestingly enough, Jade ends up sitting on my lap in the back, her butt resting on my right leg. Trina sits on Sinjin, crushing his skinny legs under her curvy frame. It's awkward as we get jostled and bounce around as Robbie pulls out of Karaoke Dokie's parking lot and onto Elmer Ave. It takes a moment to straighten up and get kind-of-comfortable.

"Seriously, Trina, how can you legally be wearing those shorts?" Jade asks. Trina just shrugs.

"My man likes it," she states, before looking over at Sinjin. "Don't cha?" she asks him, and he smiles and nods and then they're kissing and it's kind of gross.

"Why'd you have to do that?" I ask Jade, who, I suddenly realize with more seriousness than before, is _sitting on my lap and is really, really close to me_.

"Do what? Stop them talking for once?" she asks back with a faux-innocence. Beck and Andre, who sit in front of us, laugh along with Jade. Jade wraps her arms around my neck and keeps looking out towards the front of the car, where Cat fiddles with the radio and Robbie slaps her hand away from it.

Her hands rest on the back of my neck, slightly grazing my shoulders for support. And with Beck's back turned to us, he doesn't even know. I can smell her lavender shampoo. I am thinking a million different thoughts right now. Some of them a little naughty, and I'm glad I'm not a boy with expanding silly boy-parts.

Robbie turns on to the highway, and we are officially heading towards the San Fernando Valley. The radio goes up and thankfully drowns out the sloppy noises of Sinjin and Trina making out. Jade watches them and leans in to me, giggling into my ear.

"They kind of look sweet together," she whispers. "Trinjin. It kind of works, right?"

I look at her mortified, but she's there with her smile and I can see that she's just having fun. It makes me feel daring, makes me feel like I could take a chance. She pushed me enough to write my play. Is she pushing me now?

I test the waters, with my hands almost shaking. It's silly. She _is_ sitting on my lap, giving me those smiles, after all. It could mean everything. It could mean nothing. But whatever, right? That's what Jade would say. Whatever.

So I put my hands on her hips, my right arm snaking around her back.

She doesn't flinch. She doesn't move or acknowledge it. She's turned her head to the front and is ordering Cat to pick a better song on the van's stereo.

But it feels good, and it feels right. Just like what she said only moments before about Sinjin and Trina. It just kind of works despite itself.

I look out of the window at the passing lights and the cars and the white lines, and feel quite good about myself. I pretend, just for a moment or two, that this is an alternate universe and we're just a couple of girls dating and we're hanging out with our friends and everything is alright. I let that slip away slowly, like a dream from a deep sleep. I don't mind grasping at threads as long as they're my own.

* * *

**A/N - I had trouble getting this chapter off the ground and working for me, in terms of the story arc I'm trying to present. I had a lot of trouble writing it. Cutting it in half helped quite a bit. Next chapter will be longer, sexier, and have a lot more of that sweet romantic tension we all know and love.**


	15. Chapter 15

**JADE**

Alrighty, so on the ride over to this party or whatever, I was basically cheating on Beck. Basically. I was sitting in someone's lap with my arms around their neck and it wasn't my boyfriend. And when this person put there hands on my waist, I felt that heat.

You know. _That heat. Down there. In my woman parts._

And, oh shit, it's not my boyfriend doing it to me. It's not his hair or his smile or his cock or whatever. But it's also-also-also not Moose or that weird-in-a-cute-harmless-way hot-tub guy at Keenan Thompson's party that one time. It's a girl. A sexy girl with great cheekbones and a great ass and it's Tori fucking Vega.

I'm drunk.

I have been drinking.

So I am thinking things that are true but really shouldn't be true because they're wrong but the truth is wrong sometimes in it's own special little way.

Forgive me, I'm drunk, and that's how things are going to go.

Why yes, I have had a drink or two before. I'm Jade West, not Miss Priss. But it's mostly just with Beck. In his RV. Wine coolers of various colours and flavours. Ugh, how fucking stupid teenage of us. Of me. Drinking wine coolers and making out with my boyfriend. If this RV is a-rockin', don't come a-knockin'.

But wait wait wait. _Wait._ Let me back up and try and start from the beginning.

It really, really, really is the party of the century. We could hear the sound system from somewhere on the highway, and the house wasn't that far from it. Just follow the thump-thump-thump like a sonar or a heartbeat The street jam-packed with cars. A mansion with a lawn that also had cars strewn about all over it. White brick on the outside, bigger than any house I had ever been in.

Robbie had found parking on a side street, and had frowned at the convoluted parking regulations sign that he had almost banged into when his shitty driving had us jumping the curb a little itty-bit. Cat rubbed his back, and told him to ease up and relax, and he did. Seeing this, I had just shook my head in exasperation and headed up the street with Beck. Leaving Tori to deal with Trinjin and forever-single Andre.

And of course with this being a party - an enormous fucking party - we all got split up almost immediately. I had taken Beck's hand and somehow got swallowed up into the kitchen, where he had, of course, bumped into some friends he hadn't seen since stupid Canada.

The same kitchen where I had found a very lovely bottle of that German cinnamon-heart stuff and had downed about half the bottle.

Because I am drunk, and when I look at Beck and his buddies, I just feel guilty.

A little guilty.

So I drink.

Because I had been cheating on him in the back of the van. At least, I choose to see it that way. Because I want want want Tori Vega. I want to kiss her eyelids and be hers. But I'm with Beck. And Beck's not even a bad person. He's, in fact, a pretty damn decent boyfriend and what I'm doing is wrong. Desperately wanting another person. A friend of mine. A friend of his.

These friends of his. His stupid Canadian friends that look me over like every other guy at the party has. Because why go to a party and just have fun and get a little drunk? You just have to try and get laid too. Of course. So when Beck introduces me to his Canadian friends - Gary, Larry, and Terry - they give me that once over that guys at parties give a good-looking girl.

I know it sounds conceded, but fuck it. I'm good-looking tonight. With my cleavage and my hair and my makeup. Deep down, it was all for Tori, but she's nowhere to be found right now, and these friends Beck has are terrible Canadians. So I'm going to drink and ignore whatever nonsense they are discussing.

Half-a-bottle-right-now-but-half-a-bottle-later-too.

The party manages to swell in size. It's beginning to get stifling, as parties often do. But Beck doesn't seem to notice, and keeps talking to his dumb-dumb Canadian friends. A group of frat guys enter the kitchen loudly and commandeer the table, dragging the chairs loudly across the linoleum.

They begin playing beer pong. Because of course. At least it's something to look at.

Several girls pass by Beck and his Canadian friends and are at the kitchen counter next to me.

"Oh my god," one of them says. "Did you see that guy with the hair?"

"How could I not?"

"Ohmigod!"

"He is _so_ sexy!"

"Maybe he'll…"

And they disappear, giggling like vapid little sluts with alcohol. Great.

"Hey, Jade," Beck says, taking my hands in his. "Me and the guys are gonna go find a hot tub. You in?" I look at him, look at his friends, try to give off a little look of disbelief.

"I didn't bring my bikini," I say.

"It's cool," says Larry-Gary-Terry-whoever. "Just go in your bra and stuff."

I think about how attractive he would look with a pair of scissors jammed into his skull, just above his left eyebrow.

"Have fun, you guys." I put my hand on my hip and give Gary-Larry-Terry the deathstare. Beck kisses me on the cheek and disappears. Great. This shit sucks.

But then Tori shows up, looking flummoxed and overwhelmed and kind of cute at the whole party.

"This shit sucks!" I yell at her.

"What stuff sucks?" she asks, as if it really needs explaining. I mean, come on. But she's smiling, clearly amused, and it's nice that she's amused and everything but _come on._

"Party's what sucks," I tell her very matter-of-factly. But she still looks amused! She's missing the point. So I arch my back, pretend to be a debutante. The bottle in my hand. I hold it with my pinkie outstretched, like the Queen of England would do it. "Oh me oh my I sure hope Timmy sure tries to bang me tonight oh me oh my look at those abs ohmigawd."

She giggles, and I giggle at her giggle. But then my face goes super-duper-wide-and-shocked and she's still looking amused-as-shit.

"I just giggled!" I exclaimed, scared for my sanity.

"You totally just giggled," she says back at me. I'm in her face in an instant, pointing my finger almost up her nose.

"If you tell anyone," I start, "_Anyone_, and you will be terminated. With extreme prejudice."

"Okay," she says. But she's still smiling. I need to end that smile. Well, not really. Because her smile is fucking totally awesome because of her awesome cheekbones. I look at what's in my hand, and hold up the bottle.

"You drink too," I command.

"I don't really…drink."

"Too bad. You're drinking with me, like it or not."

"This is peer pressure," she says. Now it's my turn to smile.

"Yeah, so what?"

"Alcohol's bad for me."

"So is the sun, diet soda, fast food, television, blah blah blah."

"Still…" she trails off. She looks worried. Like her mommy'll show up out of the blue like in some tween television show or whatever. I shake my head and cram the bottle roughly into her hand.

Of course my heart skips a little at the skin-on-skin contact. Shut up, stupid heart.

"I haven't led you astray yet, have I?" She shakes her head and hands the bottle back to me. "You'll drink Diablo Locos, but you won't have a little booze?"

"That's different. I _needed_ that Diablo Loco."

"And you need that booze in your blood, Vega." She looks sceptical. "It'll loosen you up! You're tightly wound as it is!"

"I am _not _tightly wound!" she grits out. It appears I've hit a nerve, and it's exposed and ready to play with.

"Everything about you is tight," I say with a purr and a wink and one of my little teeth chomps. Her face lights up and turns red immediately, and she's looking at the ground. It's super-duper-fucking adorable.

"Am not…tight," she mumbles.

"Then totally prove it." I hand her the bottle back and she looks at it wearily before opening the cap and sniffing at it. Her face perks a little and she looks at me with kind-of-sort-of a smile.

"Cinnamon hearts!" she exclaims. I nod.

"I'm pretty awesome at getting you to be pretty awesome."

"You're too drunk."

"Oh well, oh well, oh well."

She tentatively sniffs the bottle again, but then Sikowitz yells out of nowhere and appears out of nowhere. Hopping from…somewhere? Tori screams and a little liquid sloshes out of the bottle and hits her hand, the floor, and her shirt.

"You're wasting it!" I call out to Tori, pointing to the slopped booze.

"Stop scaring me!" Tori yells to Sikowitz. He just laughs and pats her back.

"What are you doing here?" I say, more than annoyed. I notice he has lipstick - from his girlfriend, I hope - smeared all over his lips and forehead.

"And where's your model girlfriend?" Tori asks as she licks the booze off her hand.

"First of all, _Melanie is her name_ and she's taken a flight to Yerba for the 3rd World Lingerie Collection by Victoria's Secret. Secondly, I'm here because it's a party." He pulls a big coconut from somewhere and stabs a straw into it with superhuman strength.

"Great," I deadpan.

Cat comes up from behind the frat party in her short-ass skirt and the frat guys at the beer pong table all look her over like she's a delectable three-course chicken wing dinner. Double Great. This is what she gets for looking like jailbait without even trying. Sikowitz bristles at the frat guys and I'm reminded once more why he might actually be my favourite teacher.

"Hi hi!"

"Don't accept a drink from anyone," Sikowitz tells her but she just looks blank and confused.

We all say hello, and I notice Tori finally take a sip of the booze. I look to her and her eyes light up with the taste.

"So good!" she says to me. We all take up position, leaning up against the kitchen counter to watch the beer pong. We rep the counter. Three teenage girls and a bald teacher with a coconut. Triple Great.

"What's the biggest party you've ever been to?" Cat asks Sikowitz. After Tori takes another sip I yank the bottle from her and sip it myself. We just totally traded saliva, which sort of gets me thinking.

I very much don't want to be here with Sikowitz and Cat as they discuss the time he went to England for a party and woke up in a Turkish prison with heroin being removed from his butthole. I want to be alone with Tori. Anywhere. A café, that weird mystery-secret-diner Cat talks about. Anywhere. Where she's with me and I can get some clarity…

I feel the idea course through me, spring to life and gain momentum. My dream. _My very sexy dream._

I yank at her hand and pull her out of the kitchen, roughly pushing aside everyone else in front of me. Ignoring how smooth and soft and good her hand feels, how willingly she goes with me.

"I know where two very sexy-and-superior Hollywood Arts girls go when they want to party the fuck down with bottles of alcohol," I tell her.

"Where's that?" she asks in that sort of weird elevated worrying way she has sometimes. God, sometimes Tori Vega can be very, very dense sometimes. It's obvious where I'm taking her. Duh. I roll my eyes at her as we move forward and I continue to yank at her arm. I perfected and patented and put a stamp on an eye roll that good, but that doesn't matter right now.

I just whisk her off to where we need to go, which seems to be a perfect little thing we have together.

* * *

We go to the dance floor. The dance living room. Whatever. Big speakers. Glitter everywhere. A vague sense of flashing lights. All the furniture pushed to the edge, surrounding people.

And Tori Vega has done a little drinking. Thank God. And she's letting loose and dancing. Thank God.

"I think I might be drunk!" she calls out to me over the racket of the music. Which is absolutely, disgustingly, distressingly loud.

"Good! Loosening up?" I ask her. She nods enthusiastically and smiles, but then, out of nowhere, her face scrunches up in confusion and thought and sadness. Which is kind of weird, but she keeps dancing. And moves a little closer.

I give her a very thorough once-over.

Tori Vega is a very well-put-together young woman. From the hair to the colour of her skin to the shape of her body. Everything, when put in perspective. Her proportions. Like a wonderful, sexy little puzzle I want to solve.

It makes me feel nervous. Self-conscious. There's that cheating on Beck thing. But there's that worry that I'm just…not worth it. For her. This is the alcohol bringing out the truth in me as it sometimes does.

Am I good enough for Tori Vega? I mouth the words. Tori Vega. It feels right, the way my lips move. Maybe my dull and stupid brain just needs a sense of perspective. How, when things are just right, when things are slowed down to their infinite pieces, when I picture every single molecule and cell and tiny little piece of Tori…

How I need her.

Not want. Need.

I need her. Mouth the words, slowly realize. There is beauty in needing someone. Of having your opposite-not-so-opposite near you.

I feel my face redden a little. The lump in my throat grows. I can feel the frown on my face and there's something close to tears in my eyes.

Tori looks at me and smiles and I inhale.

"You're flushed! You alright? You're not going to puke, are you?" she asks. And the worst-best part is that she is fully, honestly concerned.

"I'm fine," I tell her, even though I know it's not the truth. I used to think I needed Beck but that's not necessarily true. Even stars fade like feelings, right? Right now, I need Tori. White-hot, new, burning everything else in my head.

I move closer to her, and she seems receptive. And once again, she puts her hands on my waist. Where was my confidence from before? Where was me just plopping into her lap? Gone, because I'm not letting it be fun anymore. Which is total and complete bullshit.

I move even closer to her. I know what we look like. Probably just like those girls that I saw talking about Beck. It probably looks like we're trying to get attention or something, to attract some guys or whatever that logic is.

I put my hands on her neck and pull even closer. I feel a little ridiculous, and I'm worried that she'll move away or whatever. But she embraces it. We begin to move in time to the beat.

Holy shit does it feel good. And right-oh-so-fucking-right. I'm flushing not because I'm angry, but because she's restoring my confidence. Old Jade back. Self-doubt coming off me in waves. Tori's smiling, those white pearly teeth on show. Just for me.

Then I feel something hard against my butt, and I see a shadow move behind Tori. Two guys have started dancing with us. Nope. Grinding against us. I see Tori's wide smile turn to something that she probably reserves for the worst kinds of people.

"I'm Chad!" says the guy behind me, screeching in my ear.

"I'm Alan!" says the guy behind Tori. I assume Chad looks exactly the same as Alan. Dressed almost too calculated. Lots of hair gel.

"And we're gonna rock your world!" they say at the same time. They high-five each other - with a "dadoink!" said simultaneously - with us crammed in between them.

"Oh, dude! Eiffel tower!" says Alan. He grins a creepy wolfish grin.

"It ain't gay with these two fine ladies between us!" says Chad-from-behind-me. I feel more incensed than ever as they do another high-five. Because they suck and have interrupted something quite wonderful for me. But the bottle is still in my hand, and I immediately have a plan because I'm fucking awesome and Tori makes me awesome.

I knew that Tori was going to squeal like a little girl and cover her face and duck to the right. In fact, I was depending on it. Sikowitz throwing his stupid balls around at us doing acting exercises showed me Tori's one dodging move. So I swung the bottle, but not at her. I clocked the Alan guy right in the face with it. A big haymaker swing right on the chin. The bottle makes a full, satisfying _clunk_ as it connects.

Of course, he drops like panties at Prome. His limp body flops to the ground. People around us laugh and cheer.

"Alan-man!" says Chet or whoever it was behind me. He gets his hands off my hips and goes to one knee to see how his little date-rapist friend is doing. Without thinking, I take Tori's hand and pull her away from the scene. She still doesn't completely know what just happened, and I fill her in as I grab a - thankfully full - bottle of rum and rush upstairs between groups of people before there's a real scene to be had.

We run into an empty bedroom and I shut the door behind us. Tori yanks the bottle from my hand and goes to the bed. We're in some little girl's room, and everything is sickeningly pink and yellow. Tori hops on the bed, jumping up and down on it and cooing as she opens the bottle.

"That was amazing!" she yells out. "Totally…totally…_fucking_ amazing!" I look at her going up and down, kicking her legs out and giggling. Happy, young-looking, energetic. She isn't crinkling her brows or worried about anything. Pure, unfiltered, never-worried Tori. It looks good on her.

"This room is disgusting!" I say. It really is. Even with only a lamp on, it's bright. What's the word? Loud. It's a very loud room.

Tori stops jumping on the bed and hops to the ground. She comes up to me and gives the bottle to drink out of, and begins to nosily poke around the desk and shelves of the room's owner. Whoever that is. It's hard to care when I take I sippy-sip of the rum. It's potent. Strong.

I go and plop on the bed, lying down. Tori sort of rolls over me and tumbles into a spot next to me. I guess that's alright. I give her the bottle back and I start fiddling under my shirt, pulling at what's begun bothering me.

"What are you doing?" Tori slurs, her voice sort of unreadable. I finally get it, wriggling my bra out of the arm of my shirt and feeling relief.

"Stupid push up bras!" I exclaim, and Tori laughs, covering her mouth with her hand.

"Yeah, must be so hard to have big tits," she says with sarcasm. I grab them and shake them under my shirtand look at them and realize that…

"You totally have a point. I love my babies!" And we both laugh too hard and she's hiccupping so I take the bottle from her. "Little boobs are okay, too." I point to hers.

"Mine aren't that little!" she pouts comically.

"Smaller than mine!"

"Everyone has smaller boobs than you." I decide to play the sympathy card. Compliment fishing.

"It's cause I'm fat," I say. My pout's real though. I think very briefly about the insults thrown my way before Hollywood Arts. Before guys liked boobs and curves.

"No you're not," Tori says. She sips the rum and kind of cringes. "You're actually, like, really pretty."

She puts the cap back on the rum. Clunks it down on a side-table next to the bed.

"You could, you know, tell me I'm pretty too," she tells me. Sounds like something I'd say and I smile at her.

"Tori Vega, you're gorgeous." My smile widens across my face and she laughs. Her hand finds its way on my stomach. Tips of her fingers under my shirt. Her body facing mine as I lie on my back and look at the ceiling. Her fingers are warm. And my insides are warming up a little. Butterflies and sexy thoughts and other things squirm around.

All that passes is the thump-thump-thump of the stereo downstairs. Bass through the walls. The mood's changed. The air has shifted.

"Excited for the play?" she asks, her voice cracking a little.

"It's going to be amazing," I say.

"Because you're the lead."

"Well, yeah." We laugh together again. "But because, you know, it's actually a real play and not the same crap we had to sit through before. Star-crossed lovers and all that bullshit."

"Not a fan of star-crossed lovers?" she asks.

"Star-crossed means doomed. I like to think lovers, no matter their pasts together, or who they are, have a long future together."

I finally look her in the big brown pools of her eyes. She looks pretty amazing. She looks intense and focused and she looks like she's all about me. Which is sort of interesting.

"What about you and Beck?" she asks. "Are you going to have a long future together?"

I don't break eye contact with her.

"I don't see that happening," I tell her. "Maybe other things have kind of…gotten in the way."

I put my hand on top of her hand, entwining my fingers in hers, resting them on top of my stomach. We still, never, ever break eye contact.

As this all happens, a whole bunch of things occur. For one thing, I am massively turned on. Another thing is guilt because of Beck. Another thing is that I'm nervous. Scared. Confused. Worried. Conflicted.

Oh yes, it's tough to be Jade West. The idea of leaving a sexy boy for a sexier girl and blah blah blah pity poor me. I figure I might as well kiss Vega and get it over with. Jump in with both feet, as it were. But it's tough, because she's still looking at me and she's almost to beautiful to kiss and I know that if I do, it changes everything. It can ruin one thing or ruin another.

The thing that bolsters me and worries me at the same time is that I can see the same type of thoughts passing before her eyes.

There's a loud clunk at the door, and I hear my name called out. It's Beck. Tori and I sit up, wide-eyed and scared and I feel like we've been caught in the act of doing something, even though we technically haven't.

"In here, sweetie," I call out, my voice cracking. Which is stupid, right? I feel Tori straightening herself out, grabbing the rum, lifting herself off the edge of the bed.

Beck enters. He's pretty drunk. He leans in the door like John Wayne, the light from the hallway flooding in. He's a silhouette with quite the smile.

"Hey," he says.

"Hey," I say back.

"I better go," Tori says, standing up fully and stretching her back. Avoiding looking at me.

"I'm pretty drunk, and I only had, like, two cups," Beck says, both proud and confused. He smells like dirty hot-tub water. I crunch my eyebrows together, trying to work it out.

"It's the hot-tub," Tori says. "It raised your body temperature. You basically boiled alcohol in your bloodstream."

Ah yes, always the science nerd. She pats Beck on the cheek with her hand and heads out the door, herself becoming a silhouette.

"You'll be fine," she assures him. "Just don't drink anymore."

The door clicks behind Tori, blacking out the light from the hallway. I don't want her to go, but I don't say anything either. Ah, shit. Beck stands, swaying and grinning and running his hand through his hair.

"Hey," he says. It's vaguely trying to be maybe seductive, I don't know.

"Hey," I say back. He comes and sits next to me on the bed.

"You alright?" he asks.

"I'm good," I lie. "Drunk." Which is the truth.

"Oh?" He puts his hand in my hair and pets me like a cat. I force a smile.

"It makes the whole seduction thing easier," I tell him. An old joke from just when we started dating.

And we're kissing. And it's not bad, because I've kissed Beck before and he's not terrible at it.

Things progress far enough that he gets up and locks the door to whoever's room this is. I'm still feeling empty and down because of Tori not being here. About how close we were to…something.

Beck stands at the door. He takes off his shirt, revealing his abs and his little sprout of chest hair. I bite my lip at him because I know he likes it. Soon enough, we're back on the bed, lying down under the sheets this time, and kissing.

I feel lonely. Desperately lonely. Even with Beck taking off my shirt and kissing my neck and feeling my nipples. Even with the warmth of his skin. I'm lonely because this won't really last. I know it won't.

My mind wanders over to Tori. Her eyes and smile and how good she looks tonight.

The warmth in stomach comes back. The tingling between my legs.

Beck groans as I play with the waistband of his boxers. In my mind's eye, I pretend they're Tori's panties. That they're pink and soft and feminine. We continue to kiss, and the small build-up of pressure starts up. And the warmth spreads all over. I push my hips up, letting Beck know I want to play. He kisses me harder. I pretend it's Tori. Tori letting go. Tori being hungry for me. Tori wanting me.

Tori. Tori. Tori.

I feel Beck's fingers in me, realize just how hot and wet I am to his touch. I grind against them, breathing deeply. Panting. Playing with his lips and tongue, kissing him but really deep down kissing Tori.

I pull his hardness out of his pants, guide him into me after he quickly puts a condom on. I gasp as he enters, hearing how wet I am. How hot I am. I'm only just aware of how hard my nipples are, how flushed my cheeks are.

Pretend that she's on top of me. Think of what her skin looks like. I think of her chest and toned stomach and her ass in yoga pants. I picture her dancing. From tonight and in my dream.

Beck is groaning too, going faster. I push against him, nibble at his neck and rub his back. Pretending all the time it's Tori. I feel hotter, wetter, than I've ever been. Making a mess for the first time in the longest time.

Pressure builds inside me, but then it releases. Spots behind my eyes with Tori in between. I picture her moaning and gasping and trembling like I do. Picture my scratch marks on her back.

It's a long slow come down from that euphoria.

Beck and I in silence. Drifting in and out of sleep. The thump-thump-thump of the music downstairs. The thump-thump-thump of my heart for Tori.


	16. Chapter 16

**TORI**

Dad always said that if I needed something sorted out, if I was ever confused, or if I needed to make sense of anything, I should start completely and totally from the beginning, and piece it forward.

The stories we heard the next day. Jade wouldn't really look at me, and she held hands with Beck as we stood in a circle at the Black Box and heard the tales that were regaled my way.

The thing was, Cat was wearing a really short skirt that night. And with her wide, trusting eyes, and her dark-red hair, she was basically catnip for frat guys that night. When we were in the kitchen - right before I had that yummy drink and went to dance with Jade - there were a lot of frat guys around. Playing beer pong.

So we left. And Sikowitz went to find more coconuts to drink. Which totally and completely left Cat along. And that's when the frat guys made their move. Things are a little hazy here, but they got a little grabby. A little forceful. And Robbie, who had been moping on a couch with Andre, had heard the commotion. Instinct kicked in, and Robbie Shapiro took on some big, bulky dudes to stop Cat from being…I don't even want to think about the extremes it might have gone to.

He got a massive black eye, and he broke his hand, but something magical happened as well. Since he was the only one with a car, he had to drive himself to the emergency room. But Cat came with him, and as he sat under those florescent lights and got his cast fitted, she kissed him.

They've been holding hands ever since. Robbie looks kind of shell-shocked about it, with a big silly grin on his face, but it's cute and I'm happy for them.

Not-so-much for Beck and Jade, but I think that goes without saying.

That was the story from beginning to end. Sikowitz beat himself up and complained about his stupidity in leaving Cat at the whim of "those guys" as he kept putting it, but was soon placated by her smile and warm eyes and cooing logic that if it wasn't for him, she and Robbie might never have gotten together. It was the only super-big thing that had happened outside of Jade and I. Which was a thing that was distracting and gnawed at my thoughts ceaselessly.

I do the only rational thing. I pretend like nothing really happened. That it was just teen-drinking and that the play is more important than any sort of thing that happened. And yes, a _thing_ totally and completely happened. The way Jade looked into my eyes. The way she was near me when we were dancing. I do my hardest to never think about it, and it makes me sad, but I swallow the sadness up. I throw myself into my play. No more being tired, no more being worn out. No more feeling like it's some kind of grind. I push myself and everyone else almost to the breaking point. I have to pretend, I remind myself constantly.

Perfectly enough, no one notices. We're in the home stretch for the play and we want it all to be completely, one-hundred-twenty-percent perfect. We push and push. Quickly enough, sets are finished, everything is hashed out, and lines are read off with near perfection. Robbie's our lead, playing an upper-class kind of guy, and we explain away his cast and black eye in the play as an accident at a polo match. That was Jade's suggestion, one of the three or four times she's talked to me without prompt.

Her silence and time with Beck hurts, hurts, hurts. Almost too much. When working on the play doesn't do it for me, I lie in bed at night and cry about Jade. Soft, quiet sobs into my pillow. Because it's confusing! I've never liked a girl before! Never…loved…before. And Jade-freaking-West of all people! The girl who used to torment me constantly is now doing it in a whole different way and she doesn't even know it!

But I wake up the next morning and do what I have to do. School's almost over, and I'm sure we'll drift apart. That's what graduating friends do, I guess. She'll go off and be awesome with Beck. Ride around in his RV and be whatever they want to be, without me. C'est la vie.

* * *

It's two days until the play. And that means it's also our second-last dress rehearsal. We do it in the late afternoon after a snack break that had Jade looking at me in weird, appraising ways. Like a softer, gentler version of how she used to look me over when looking for a criticism or joke about my clothes or whatever. I tried to ignore them, but it was still Jade in my head, all the time.

During the big final song and dance, the unthinkable happens. Alright, so it's not that unthinkable, but still. As Jade walks down a step built into the stage and does a little twist, there is a loud rip. One that's heard over the music, and one that makes Jade straighten out her posture and blush and grab her pants and run backstage.

The music and dancing stops with the sound of a record scratch, like when in movie trailers a drama bomb is dropped.

"Um…what?" is all Andre says to the crowd. We're kind of stunned into silence.

"I'll, uh, go check on it," Beck says, following the disappearing Jade. And we wait. There's some incoherent yelling from wherever they are, and then Beck is back. He holds Jade's pants in his hands and looks scared and embarrassed.

"Jade says that first-of-all, there won't be any fat jokes or she will shave your hair in your sleep," he says to a gasping Cat. "Secondly, she ripped her pants doing that move."

There are some hushed snickers, and my face reddens a little. Poor Jade.

"Where's Valerie?" I ask, looking around for our costume and makeup girl to help us out here. People shrug.

"She's babysitting her brother!" someone calls out.

"Great," I say. "Any replacement pants?"

There are mumbled words and shrugs in the effect of the negative.

"Also great," Beck says. I sigh.

"Alright, rehearsal's postponed," I say. I motion and Beck tosses the pants to me. "I know some sewing or whatever. I'll fix them."

Everyone tidies up and some people make jokes but that's about it. I grab my backpack and head home, trying to empty my thoughts of Jade, which I realize is near impossible.

The house is thankfully empty. Mom and Dad are working and are going on a date night. Trina is - ugh - probably over at Sinjin's. That relationship shows no signs of slowing down at all. I'm happy for her, but…ugh. I try not to think about it too hard, I suppose.

Turns out with an empty house and a task to complete, there's a lot that I can forget about. I find the sewing kit under the bed in my parent's room, and set myself to work. It's quiet, the sun is sending lovely rays of light throughout, and it's a nice warm feeling. I'm calm. I'm centering myself. I think about how silly it is to cry at night over Jade. How silly worrying might actually be.

Conditions shape our beliefs sometimes. I try to let the sun warm my skin, and I sit in the upstairs bathroom, thinking about running a bath and relax tonight. Get the knots out of my body. I even hum a song to myself. One of the ones from the play. Not that I used to listen to it, but it's catchy enough, rocking enough, and Jade has been really killing it in rehearsal. The play might just be the event of the year…

The doorbell rings, interrupting my train of thought. But since I'm still in a good mood and Trina isn't screeching for me to get it, I happily oblige. Bounding downstairs with a spring in my step, I open the door.

It's Jade. Wearing a new pair of pants and her same old scowl.

"Um, hi," I say. Forcing a smile.

"No. Fat. Jokes." She grits her teeth and stomps in.

"I'm not going…" I start, but she just gives me a death stare and I stop talking immediately. But then she just laughs, loudly and happily.

"I'm kidding Vega. I heard you're here, fixing my little…accident."

Inside, I sigh with relief and smile back. Warmth flowing through my chest. I'm suddenly, wonderfully happy to see her.

"Yeah, I'm almost done."

I lead her upstairs to the bathroom where I had been sewing.

"Not to make a mess," I explain to her.

"I don't think I've ever been on the top floor of your house," she muses, looking around. "It's nice."

"Thanks."

We make small talk as I finish up. I make sure that everything's good, and I tell her to try them on. I leave the bathroom and soon enough she knocks at the door, telling me to enter. She does a twirl, showing off in her dance pants.

"Looking good," I say. I sit down on the toilet and inspect closer, and she gladly gives up the length of thigh where my new stitching is. The seam all along the thigh looks new and thicker than the other leg, but no one's going to notice. It looks good enough, I suppose. "It looks good enough, I suppose."

She smiles down at me. I suddenly realize that she's very close to me, very much towering over my. My face is in line with her stomach, which peeks through her black shirt. I feel my cheeks redden and a lump grow in my throat.

"Thanks, sweetheart," she says with a laugh.

"Sweetheart? Are you high?" I ask. "You've never said that word in your life."

"It just felt right, you know?" Another smile on her face.

The lump in my throat gets bigger, and my eyes wander back to her stomach. The bare skin, her belly button…

I stand up suddenly, realizing I'm thinking thoughts that I most definitely need to suppress.

"Well, I hope it works out for you," I say. It comes out weirdly and I hide my face by going over to the sink and washing my face and hands and ignoring the looks she throws my way. She's probably cocking her eyebrow and thinking I'm a weirdo. Which was par for the course.

"You alright?" she asks.

"Yeah," I reply. "Just…uh…" I can't finish. My mouth is mush, my brain is cotton.

Suddenly, I feel her hand on my back, patting me supportively. Her fingers warm through the fabric of my t-shirt. I look in the mirror, her reflection showing the same look she gave me at the party. My heart is pounding so hard. I'm trembling a little. The same feeling I get before I'm on stage.

"You're too kind to me," Jade says. "I've been kind of a bitch lately. Not talking to you and stuff. You didn't have to sew the pants or let me in, or anything."

I still look at her reflection. She steps forward, at my side now, her hand moving up my back to my neck.

"Sometimes…" she sighs out. "Sometimes…I think I'm going to be like one of those Northridge girls…or that people think I'm terrible and unlovable or whatever. But you've always been nice…and your play…I'm kind of glad that you're doing something amazing. Kind of…really glad."

She's mumbling, and a little uncertain, but her voice is back to being soft. I turn to her, and we face one another. Searching the depth of each other's eyes. She's so beautiful, so wonderful. I'm so in love sometimes.

It's weird…this feeling rises up from my gut. A longing. A sadness. A melancholy that I truly know what it feels to have my heart swell and have love, love, love writhe beneath my skin like a snake.

Jade puts her hands on my hips. Puts herself even closer. Our breathing shallow and deep, our eyes never breaking gaze. But then I close my eyes and lean in and kiss her softly. Her lips moist and warm and soft and perfect and wonderful.

That primal feeling flares up, deep inside, boiling in my stomach and being unleashed. Soon enough, we're kissing hard, our lips and tongues searching wildly. Her hands on my back and neck, pulling me close, holding me in. I'm fighting her back with my own mouth, making up for whatever it may be, deep inside me.

Jade pushes into me slightly, and I force myself to sit on the bathroom counter. I almost fall into the sink, but she holds on to me, positioning herself between my legs. We keep kissing, spilling out our feelings, the feelings that are taking us over. I grope her butt, she's running her thumbs over my hips, playfully lifting my shirt a little.

And then she stops.

We're so close we're touching foreheads. Jade's looking into my eyes, animalistic and greedy, with gritted teeth. Her hands clench on to my cheeks, threatening to pull, to rip me in two.

But then that stops.

She slams one hand onto the mirror behind me. The other falls to the counter supporting her. I still can't move, but her touch is no longer there. She breathes into my neck, no longer looking at me. I can smell her perfume, a dark, almost-male scent like wood. I keep a hand on her hip.

"I'm sorry," she says. "Fuck. I'm sorry." I realize that we're both breathing deeply. That we're both trembling. That I need her right now, in this moment. But I don't do anything about it, and she's picking up her bag and heading out the door as quick as she can.

I have a choice right now. Letting her go, or going after her. One's more crazy than the other though, and I follow her.


	17. Chapter 17

**JADE**

I'm heading out the bathroom door as fast I can, feeling confused and angst-ridden tears welling up in my eyes. Everything's a blur around me as I stumble a bit through Tori's upstairs hallway. As I get to the top of the stairs, I feel a hand clamp around my arm. It yanks me towards the wall, next to the door to Tori's room and a framed kindergarten picture of Trina, all big smile and braces.

And Tori's kissing me, hard. Digging her nails into my arm and cheek. Breathing on me, sliding her tongue around my mouth. Desperate, angry. She stops, pressing her head against mine, breathing quickly. Just like me.

"Don't leave," she says. "I need you, I need you, I need you." She repeats it, trails off. Tears are welling up in her eyes too, but she hides them by digging her mouth into my neck. Kissing and sucking and sending the hairs on the back of neck up like static electricity. I grab her wrists and twist and wrench and dig in, kissing above her ear. We both stop.

For a moment, all I can hear are our heartbeats, our breathing. I can smell her hair and her skin and the sun is pouring through the house and the air is cool and my veins are on fire. It's right here that I decide to throw caution to the wind, that she's the one I want, that she is all I need. I decide in that little moment that all that matters in the world is being hopelessly, deeply, wonderfully falling head-over-heels for her.

"If you ever, ever, ever leave me like that again," she tells me, "I will scratch out your eyes. I'll break every piece of jewellery you have." I can feel it building in me, her statements making me bristle. I'm an animal. She makes me primal, the same way I'm making her. Her kisses are water in a desert. Her aura is surgery, a blood transfusion I desperately need. She lifts her head up. Still tears in her eyes. Still heat on her breath. But she's determined, more determined than I've ever seen her ever before in the history of ever knowing anyone at Hollywood Arts.

"I will never, never, ever leave you again." I tell it through gritted teeth, through determined lips. I can see all her feelings in her eyes before she dives her mouth into mine. The same animal instinct, the same unbroken love I'm feeling right now. We can rip each other in two right now and it would all be in the name of feeling pure and whole and filled with twisted stunted logic but it works god-dammit and it's the only thing I want to believe in.

She goes to my neck again, sucking hard and kissing. I don't give a fuck, don't care about Beck. I let him go, push him back to the shadowy parts of my memory. Instead of him, I dig my nails into Tori's back and scratch. Deep. Her breath shudders, her knees almost buckle.

I take the brief moment in time to turn us around and push her against the wall with some force, enough to rattle Trina's picture on the wall. I unbutton the top button of her jeans, kissing her as much as possible. I move my hand beneath her panties, feeling their elastic band tight on my knuckles. I feel a small amount of pubic hair, brushing my fingers past it to the warm, wet mound beneath.

We keep kissing, keep going at it. I slip my fingers into her, and she gasps and moans. Her voice reverberates in my head, and I realize that I'll never forget that sound. It's a foundation for the here and now. How there's love and intuition and sex and animal instinct mixed in our voices and the things we do. I let go, let go of everything. The world fades away, and it's just us. Just her pressing into my fingers. Just her moans and sighs and kissing lips.

And she comes. She comes hard. Gasping silently, her cheeks flushing red, heat bursting forth from every pore on her skin. I look her over, radiant and beautiful and flushed and wonderful. Look at how tired she is, how for a moment she falls into me and hugs me and kisses my shoulder. My hand leaves her pants, goes to her hips. We hug in an embrace.

The world's still gone, still a darkened corner of our existence. But I don't care. She's my early morning calm, my strongest belief. She's the catharsis I've been looking for.

She leans back against the wall, relaxed. She opens her eyes, and they're beautiful and brown and I never noticed them like this before. She feels completely at peace with the world. My mirror.

Tori takes my hand in hers. She kisses the fingers that were inside of her, holding my hand like it was something truly precious. Like it would fall apart if she wasn't careful. Eyelids fluttering, she looks at me with such intensity from those dark brown eyes of hers that I involuntarily shudder. She lowers our hands, entwining our fingers. There's a shift in pressure. In the air. In my heart. We aren't so hard anymore, no longer filled with violent animal desperation for one another. A softness in the atmosphere, one that tells us that everything's going to be okay. We've given into each other, and now it's time to revel in it slowly and without necessity.

She leads me into her room and shuts the door behind us. I sit on the edge of her bed as she goes over to her laptop. I notice how everything is basically purple and kind of girly but that's okay, I suppose. With a few clicks from her desk, some soft music come to life. It echoes off the walls, twinkles and fills the air with vibrations I feel in my skin.

There's a lump in my throat and I can't swallow it down. I feel like tears are constantly building up behind my eyes. How does she do it? How does she make me feel this way? I'm full, I'm empty. I'm confused, I'm clear as crystal. Hot and cold. Night and day. Infinite and small. All of a sudden she's infected me with this need - this addiction - and it's like I never saw it coming. Or saw it from a mile away and didn't care.

She lays me down, making my hair splay out like a fan over her sheets. I give up control. For once in my life. And I look at Tori right in her eyes. Her gaze says I'm special. That she needs me she needs me she needs me she needs me. She pauses over me, resting with her thigh between my legs and propped up by her elbows.

"I've never really done anything like this before," she says.

"It's okay, honestly," I tell her. The room is warm. The ache between my legs is strong, but I want to her to be happy. I put a hand on her cheek and we kiss lightly. "We don't have to do anything."

"I want to," is all she says, and we kiss a little more. I contently sigh, running my hands through her hair as we tremble together in the late afternoon sun.

Soon enough, we're under her sheets, in just our bras and panties. We're kissing each other, finding out about the kisses and crevices and unmapped parts of our bodies. It's intense, the way the first few times with Beck were…but it's different. It's new. But it's also comfortable, and we pass the afternoon embracing each other and the time we share.


	18. Chapter 18

**TORI**

From somewhere outside, a garbage truck beeps as it backs up. I hear the neighbour kids playing in their pool. My house is quiet, except for the soft music coming from my speakers. Little echoes and sounds of the late afternoon.

Jade and I lie in silence, letting our hands brush along our backs, feeling each other's skin and hair. It's so simple. Just touches. Just feelings. All the outpouring of our souls. The after-effects and tremors. I can't stop smiling. My cheeks hurt so much. The great thing is that Jade is smiling too. A rare, for-my-eyes-only smile. A sleepy, content smile with half-closed eyes.

I kiss her forehead, kiss her eyelashes. Our skin warm together. Porcelain and caramel entwined.

"I like that," she sighs out, pleased.

"Good," I whisper. I don't know why, but whispering seems appropriate right now. Maybe our happiness is something private. It's just us and my room and the setting sun and nothing else matters.

Jade turns and lies on her back, and I rest easily and comfortably into her collar, my head on her shoulder. Her arm wraps around my shoulders and holds me close. Our torsos are bare and cool in the open air, the blanket concealing everything below our pelvises. I move my hand to her stomach, fingers lightly tapping her belly button.

Her smooth skin and breasts. Just out in the open. All for me right now. The hand on my back lowers to right above my butt. I didn't know I wanted more. I thought I was all spent but something deep inside goes off.

I start kissing her shoulder, her neck. Kissing it heavily and wetly. She breathes in, a sharp intake of breath that raises the hair on her skin. It just makes me kiss harder. My hand on her stomach flattens out and rubs at her stomach in a circle. Her chest begins to raise with her breathing.

"Oooh…" she trails off. "I _definitely _like that." It's husky, it's between breaths.

"I know, you're so easy to read," I whisper, close to her. I start sucking on her ear, just on the lobe, and she shudders involuntarily. She laughs too.

"So are you," she says with a spark of mischief. She puts her free hand to my inner thigh, and I gasp too. My sensitive spot. Or at least the one that guards the _really, really_ sensitive spot.

I sloppily, wetly kiss her lips and she kisses back. Our tongues lustily move around our lips and inside each others mouths. This is hotter than before. Wetter and more primal and forceful and vigorous than what had happened before.

I didn't even think that was possible. Jade West is insatiable.

My hand goes from her stomach, under the blanket, past her pubic hair, and between her legs. She's already soaking wet and slick.

"Wow," I tell her, and she smiles into my wide eyes.

"Look what you do to me!" she exclaims with a laugh and her eyes brimming with…love? Maybe. I kiss her even harder and put my fingers inside her. She gasps into my mouth. "That _does not_ get old!" she exclaims, and she pushes her pelvis into me.

Her head moves to my neck and we're fully a couple in third-base embrace. She's hot and wet, groaning and moaning into my neck. Squealing and curling her toes. Gripping and biting the bed sheets and pillows. I kiss the top of her head and her ear, fingering her until she comes. I feel her pour over my fingers, wetting my hand.

I'm kind of stunned.

"I do this to you?" I ask, incredulous, looking at my glistening fingers. Her face is red and she's a little embarrassed, gasping deep into my clavicle.

"I know, right?" She's silent for a moment. "Sorry if it grosses you out," she grumbles into my neck.

"It's not gross!" I say. "It's…awesome."

She turns to look at me.

"It's…" I start. "It's _totally__…__fucking awesome._"

She laughs at me because my swearing is kind of awkward and stupid all the time. But I live for that laugh, and I kiss her again.

"Time to return the favour, I think," she says. And her hand goes to the wetness between my legs and I shiver a little as she begins to rub at my lips down there.

But then Jade's phone rings, blaring some scuzzy ringtone. She pulls away from me and cringes. It's the Beck ringtone.

"Ah, shit," she grumbles. I don't want her to answer it. Not for me, but for her. She was so happy just now…and now she's not. She rolls over and picks up her phone from the floor next to the bed. She lies on her back, covering her eyes with her hand. She's grimacing as she presses the little green button and holds it up to her ear. "Hey."

My hand goes to her stomach, and I rest my head on her shoulder. I think she might pull away, and the thought worries me. But she doesn't, and I'm relieved. I try not to feel guilty, but it's starting to gnaw at my insides already. Funny how things switch up so quickly.

"Yep. Yeah. Well…" Jade says in to the phone. She looks at me. "I'm at Tori's. Yeah. Getting my stupid pants fixed. Yeah. Yep. Lemme ask her." She covers the mouth of her phone with her hand.

"Everyone's meeting for dinner tonight. You in?" she asks me. The look on her face is unreadable but serious. I nod and she goes back to her phone. "Yep. We'll meet you guys there. Yep."

She cringes harder than ever into the mouthpiece.

"Yeah. Love you too. Bye."

She throws her phone down on the ground, a little harder than she had to.

"Shoot," I say.

"Shit," she says.

"What are we going to do?"

"I don't know."

We don't talk for a while. The sun goes lower in the sky. The music keeps playing. The world hasn't changed around us, but inside, I feel turmoil upon turmoil.

The thing about Beck is that he's a good friend. A great friend, even. He could have flipped out when he didn't get the lead - Jade told me he was gunning for it badly - but he's friends with Robbie and knew it was for the best. He's driven me to school a whole bunch of times. He's been there for me.

And I went and betrayed him. Like a total ganky bitchface super-bitch. Regret suddenly seeps in. Regret and anger at myself and guilt at my selfishness.

"We can't tell him," I quietly say.

"We have to!" Jade exclaims. When has she been the super-rational one before? Usually I'm the voice of reason, but that's in scissor-related incidents. This is totally different, I guess.

"I know, but…" I trail off, thinking, biting my lip. "We'll tell him after the play. Okay? We can't mess things up. If he found out beforehand, he'll quit and we'll be screwed out of a play. I don't want to use his understudy! That guy is totally and complete chizz of the highest order."

"It's not just about the play, is it?" Jade asks, looking at me like she's seen me for the first time. I shake my head feverishly, backtracking and trying to make sense of a dream collapsing.

"No! But…it'll be tough to tell him already. I'm worried about everything now." It's true, and my voice cracks just enough to show Jade that I mean serious business.

"I want to tell him," I say. "But it has to be on our terms, okay? It has to be with a clear conscience and a clear schedule, and it can't make things more complicated than they already are!"

She kisses me, holds my cheeks in her hand. I melt with her touch.

"I get it," she says after we've separated. "We'll do it after things have quieted down."

She holds out her pinky and we pinky-swear and we kiss again and then we get up and put our clothes on and head out. I try to do it slowly, to keep our time together longer, but in the end, we leave the house and hop into Jade's car.

* * *

Cat had picked the place. I had to get Jade to repeat the name as I typed it into her phone for directions. Frank-N-Tank's Fun Time Pizza Factory And Old Fashioned Yummy Tummy Experience.

The sun had finally set and it was just another Friday night in Los Angeles. We were headed downtown, and the traffic wasn't the greatest. We held hands in the car, pretty much silent the entire ride over. Jade hooked up the radio to her phone and played some band I hadn't heard of before. One of the better songs just repeated _"__When I__'__m with you, I have fun__"_over and over and it felt like the perfect song for the night, ever.

I opened my window and let the breeze lift my hair. Despite everything, I still felt happy. Happier than I've been in a little while. I take the trip to set my mind on being secretive and not let anything go, and I try to erase my feelings of Jade, just for the next however-long. It proves to be kind of futile. But I try not to let it get me down.

As soon as we pull in to the Pizza Place parking lot, Jade lets go of my hand, and with a re-assuring smile, turns back into the girl I once knew. The confident actress. Already strutting through the parking lot and into the Yummy Tummy Experience like she owns the place. We're friends. She was just my ride. I follow her, swallowing down the lump in my throat quickly.

Inside, the pizza place is…odd. Like a weird mix between hoedown and surfshop. There's a ton of stuff on the walls and there are palm trees inside and it's big and busy. Near the back is everyone - including Trina and Sinjin who are part of our group now for some reason - at a big booth with blue seats. People get up and let Jade sit next to Beck, and I have to sit by myself on the end seat.

"Look who's late," Beck says with a smile. Jade rolls her eyes like she would normally would.

"Pfft, it's just because your lives suck without us!" she tells him.

"True," he replies. He kisses her cheek and I ignore them, focusing on Robbie and Cat, who look happy enough together, pointing over a menu.

"Ordered you a diet soda," Trina says to me from next to Robbie. She's holding hands with Sinjin, who looks at the menu. Today, he has a long, curved pipe in his mouth. Like what Sherlock Holmes would have.

"Thanks," I tell her, and right on cue, a buxom waitress in a grass skirt brings it to me.

"Ready to order?" she asks us. People other than myself and Jade get their food picked out - Cat getting a pizza with marshmallows and cream-soda flavoured crust, because of course - and I have to look over the giant-sized menu for anything that might not be weird and terrible. I quickly pick a regular pepperoni pizza and Jade picks something called the Napalm Hellmouth Fantastico.

"Sounds delish," Andre says with dripping sarcasm. She rolls her eyes again.

And so the night begins.

* * *

**A/N - Another tough chapter to write, hence the quick ending. The song Tori mentions when they're in the car is "When I'm With You" by Best Coast. ALSO, a big fat thank you and shout out to everyone who has been following, reviewing, and adding this story to their favourites. I truly appreciate it, and I'm a little overwhelmed too!**

**A/N 2 - There will be a sequel-sort-of-thing to this story when it finishes. More like side-stories to flesh out certain things. I'm excited for it, and you should be too.**


	19. Chapter 19

**JADE**

All the pizza is incredibly delicious. As I glance from face to face around the table, everyone looks completely satisfied. Andre pats his stomach and exhales.

"That was awesome," he states.

"Yum yum!" Cat calls out.

"Good choice, Cat," Beck says with a smile. "We'll all have to come here more often!"

"I can deal with that," Andre says with his own grin.

"I'm thinking that this is our grad-go-to," Robbie suggests, and for once everyone actually agrees with him. Cat beams at him, all girlfriendy and cute. We had been arguing about a place to eat after our graduation ceremony for ages. It had become intensely irritating, and I secret thank the universe for it ending.

I kind of wish I could beam at Tori the same way Cat is beaming at Robbie. The kind of beam that makes everyone gag.

"How was your pizza?" Tori asks me, keeping her voice normal and flat and I can tell she's trying to act or whatever and keep our secret safe. Not that it needs to be safe. The last thing anyone would expect is what's up, but she doesn't seem to notice this. It's kind of annoying. So I channel that tiny annoyance.

"I bet it was a lot better than your boring pepperoni," I say with a smirk. Normally she'd roll her eyes but she just does her nod and looks to Andre as he squirts some ketchup from a packet into his mouth.

"What?" he asks with his mouth full of red-sugar-gunk.

"You're gross," Trina says with her trademark lip-curl and neck snap.

"For once, we agree," I tell her, and the girls laugh.

"Not cool, ladies," says Andre.

"Come on, man," Beck says to Andre. "Let's go so I can kick your ass at videogames." He motions to the arcade at the back.

"You're on!" Andre agrees, clapping his hands together and rubbing them expectantly.

"Aren't you going to join them?" Cat asks as they leave the booth.

"I'm no good at videogames," Robbie says with his eyes looking down.

"More time with me then!" Cat squeals, hugging his arm.

"I'm going to get diabetes if I keep looking at those two," I say to no-one in particular and get up to follow the boys to the arcade.

* * *

Beck and Andre's faces glow as they play an old version of Street Fighter II that's set up. They jostle and knock each other around and laugh. I play the dutiful girlfriend and cheer Beck along. Cat and Robbie are taking pictures of each other and sharing in-jokes and generally being a couple. Lord knows where Trina and Sinjin got off to. I try really, really hard not to think about it.

"Come oooonnn!" Beck says, right as Andre beats him to a pulp in a perfect victory.

"You owe me a drink!" Andre says. Beck groans loudly and I pat him on the back as he puts quarters in the machine for a rematch.

I see Tori talking on her PearPhone at the booth. She gets up to go to the bathroom, and I feel a small pang of guilt about my earlier comment. She goes in and disappears behind the door.

"Do you still have to play?" I ask Beck.

"Why, you two wanna get frisky?" Andre asks with an eyebrow waggle. I roll my eyes at him.

"Later, babe," is what Beck says with his own eyebrow waggle. I sneer at him.

"For that, you get nothing," I tell him. He groans.

"What if I win the next match?"

"No. Maybe." I'm just teasing him. It's Tori now for that kind of thing. I think about it and blush a little and look at my feet.

"Looks like it's a yes," Andre says with a smile and a fistbump with Beck.

"Ugh, you two are such..._boys_," I tell them.

"Thank you!" they exclaim in chorus, and their match starts up again. I look again to the bathroom, and decide that I need a little Tori to take the edge off. I break away from them, giving Cat a high-five as I pass her and Robbie and the Bibble vending machine that they're trying to break in to.

I enter the bathroom, which is a little gross-looking. But that's beside the point. Up against the counter, the three Northridge bitches - the blonde, brunette, and redhead arsonists - have surrounded and pinned Tori against the wall, next to the hand dryer. Everyone shifts their gaze to me, like a pack of gazelle who have heard a twig snap.

Tori looks relieved to see me. The other girls, not so much.

"Well if it isn't the fat dyke bitch," says the blonde one whose name I can never remember.

"Good one," I say, letting the bathroom door click shut behind me. I put my hand on my hip, doing my best sassy look. "Never heard that before."

I'm not scared or anything. These girls don't scare me. And they're clearly harassing Tori - _my Tori_ - and they need to pay for that kind of stuff. It emboldens me, makes me static, and makes me more than a little annoyed that they can just wreck up everything about my friends and lovers.

Lovers. Shit. Beck. But I can't think about him now.

"We were just helping out little miss priss here," says the redhead, motioning to Tori. "Telling her how you and your little group of friends aren't really supposed to be anywhere near here."

"Except that sexy piece of meat with the hair," says the brunette with a nasty smirk on her face. Meaning Beck, naturally. I don't really care what she does to Beck or whatever, but I have to play the game until after the play.

I glance at Tori and she actually looks a little scared. I used to like that look, but now it's kind of heartbreaking.

"You girls don't know when to shutup," I say, looking at my fingernails, pretending to be bored and disinterested. "Is that, like, a Northridge thing? Diarrhea of the face? You all fucking look like shit, anyways."

I know that doesn't make much sense, but all they hear is the fact that I call them ugly. They give Tori some space and turn to me, grimacing in anger and trying to intimidate me.

"You all look kind of constipated," I say. I motion to the stall. "Give it your best shot, I guess."

"Shut up, dyke fattie," says Blondie. The three girls get into gang-attack position. Of course they do. They take a step forward.

"Listen, girls," I start. "You could fight me. Or you could leave right now before you get hurt."

"Gonna sit on us, you fat piece of shit?" asks the brunette.

Seriously, what is their obsession with my weight? Jealous of my boobs, probably.

"No. But..." I trail off. I pull my second favourite pair of scissors out of my hiding spot. Long and black and perfectly shiny. "If you try anything - anything at all - I'll jam this in your neck."

That has them looking a little scared. Except the blonde.

"You don't have the guts," she says.

So I stab the door with my scissors, and leave them in there. They stick out at an angle, but I did it so easily and comfortably and I hope I looked like a bad-ass enough to scare them a little.

"Try me, you sluts," I tell them. They just look at each other, and after a tense moment or two, they shake their heads and walk by me out of the bathroom. "And stop following us around! It's creepy!" I tack on. They give me the finger, but the door shuts again with a click.

Tori and I are alone now, and we both audibly exhale. I move a little closer to her. She still leans against the bathroom counter.

"Thank you so much," she says, breathless and a little wide-eyed. "They were probably going to beat me up."

"Not a problem," I tell her. She nods and looks down at her hands. I take them in mine, and we share each other's gaze. She smiles at me, wide and with her pretty cheekbones. I realize that apologizing for my comment is stupid, and that I should have more faith in what she thinks about me.

So, I kiss her softly.

"I've been wanting to do that all night," she tells me. I nod in agreement.

"Just...we'll wait until after the play," I say.

"I know."

"It's been tough for me too."

"I know. It's just..."

"Just..."

"Everything's been so wonderful. Thank you." Her voice cracks a little, and she kisses me on the cheek softly. "I didn't think things could feel this way."

Warmth floods my veins. It feels great. All you need is love, right?

"Look, Tori...things are going to be...tough. With Beck." She looks crestfallen, like I've given the impression that I'm not giving him up. "Not...to break up with him. I've made up my mind about that."

"Okay."

"It's just...this is a massive, massive, massive thing."

"Massive," she repeats with a cute smile.

"I've barely had time to process this."

"Me either," she nods. "Like...I have no idea if I'd tell my parents. Or whatever."

"Exactly."

"My mind is like...total cotton right now."

"Mine too."

We kiss softly again, our senses on overdrive for someone opening the door.

"Just know," I say, "That I care for you. A lot."

"I know."

"And that whatever happens...we'll happen." Tori bites her lip and smiles at me.

"I...did some...thinking," she says.

"Yeah?"

"More like...wishing, really." She pauses, and takes a deep breath. "I want to go somewhere with you. Somewhere...just the two of us can be."

I swallow a massive lump in my throat, because Beck is still on about the same thing.

"I want to..." she continues, trailing off. "I want...to save money. And go to a small place. And...just you and me. With the beach, and...yeah."

She's avoiding eye contact, looking at my shoulder. I am filled with love for every part of her.

"Sounds like a plan," I tell her.

After a slight kiss, and a little bit of straightening up, we head out to face our friends and get the night back on track.

Tomorrow's the play. Tomorrow's the end of all things. Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow. The things we look forward too. Beginnings and endings and a stage to dance on.

* * *

**A/N - Sorry for the wait! And the brevity! Read my profile for a reason why. Only two chapters left, but the next chapter will be MASSIVE, so look forward to it. Thank you for still being a fan if you still are, and all my love goes out to y'all for it!**


	20. Chapter 20

**TORI**

Five minutes before the show, and I finally have a moment to myself. I'm in the back office of the theatre. My only company the broken fax machine and a desk with old folders on it. The walls are oppressively gray and the florescent lights buzz loudly.

I take a deep breath and let it out. I let the lack of demands and the unusually calming hum wash over me. Let my rattled nerves and anticipation for the play go. Everything is ready to go. The crowd is in their seats and everyone is in position. All I have to do is call "action" and all our work can be put to good use.

But first, I need five minutes of me time.

There's a knock at the door. I roll my eyes. I _told _Sikowitz I just needed this time and that everything was ready. I open it in a huff. But it's just some guy in a cargo delivery-man outfit.

"You Tori Vega?" he asks.

"Yep," I reply. He hands me a big bunch of flowers, tips his cap, and leaves me to shut the door. I gawk at the sheer amount of them. Purple, the same colour as my room and my favourite shirts. There's an identification card saying they're called "purple lisianthuses". They smell subtle and wonderful. I pull out the other card, and tear open the white envelope.

There's no note or anything. Just an large, distinct, block-lettered "J" on a piece of cardboard. Nonetheless, it makes me smile. Another small touch of stress relief just before the play. Another thing that Jade gives me, that makes me feel like I can take on anyone. I place the flowers in an empty and very dusty jug that sits on top of a filing cabinet for picking up later. I take another long lasting breath.

Alright, let's do this.

* * *

I'm on a catwalk at the back of the auditorium, almost like a projectionist's area above and behind the people in their seats. I can see the whole stage as I put on my headset and blow into the microphone to see if it's working. I get the all clear from Dingle, the stage manager.

Yeah, his name his Dingle, but that's another story for another day.

"Alright, we ready?" I ask into the headset.

"Yup," replies Dingle.

"Okay, lower the lights and start the play. Action, I guess."

The lights in the auditorium dim and the crowd goes silent. I think of Mom and Dad in the crowd briefly, and hope that they like it. I'm not performing, but this is _mine mine mine_.

Sinjin walks in front of the red curtain, looking like a sad businessman. He looks around the stage for a moment, looking forlorn, bittersweet.

"You shoulda seen it...It was beautiful. The most beautiful and alive place in the world. But now it's gone. Maybe because I grew up...maybe because things change. I don't know. I don't think we'll ever know."

I should thank Sinjin. He knocked the whole sad-sack-clown thing out of the park. I'll kiss his cheek again and maybe my sister won't mind.

The curtain rises, revealing the stage. It's the Atomic Bomb Cafe. A mix between 50s diner and dive bar, with a stage to the back-left of it. On the stage is half the main cast. Cat - wearing a sexy schoolgirl outfit as "Lolita Hazmat" - sits on the drums, which reads "The Broken Dreams" on the main piece. Andre - in a torn up suit as Jacob Ripper - is on the bass, smiling his big white smile. At the main microphone, looking devastatingly good in a red, summery dress, is Jade. She has a guitar slung over her shoulders, and she's holding it with a casual coolness.

"Ladies and gentlemen! " Jade calls out into the microphone. "I am Betty Bombshell, and these are my spectacular, SEXtacular Broken Dreams," she says as she motions to Andre and Cat. The crowd of the Atomic Bomb Cafe goes nuts, and the auditorium crowd politely claps. That's when the first song kicks in.

_Well don't have no money cause I don't have a job  
Don't have a job cause I ain't got no skills  
Ain't got no skills 'cause I was not trained  
I was not trained 'cause I didn't go to school_

The idea is that the Atomic Bomb Cafe is filled with toughs and roughs. We choreographed a basic mosh-pit-mixed-with-dance-floor. It simulates chaos. It shows that these are the people from the wrong side of the tracks. As this happens, Robbie and Beck - dressed as squares, playing Ronald Nerdington and Danny Dogood respectively - enter the cafe and look absolutely beside themselves with a mixture of glee and horror.

_Didn't go to school 'cause nobody told me  
Nobody told me 'cause nobody knew shit  
Nobody knew shit 'cause nobody knows nothing  
Nobody knows nothing and that's just it_

"How did you find out about this place?" Ronald asks Danny.

"Don't worry about it, just enjoy your birthday party!" Danny says, dragging Ronald over to the bar.

_What can you do? You get what's given to you_  
_Square one, here I come, here I come square one_  
_You get what's given to you_  
_Square one, here I come, here I come square one_

"Boy oh boy!" Ronald tells Danny, "That singer sure is somethin' else, don'tcha think?"

"You fallin' in love, Ronny?"

"I dunno, Danny-boy, I dunno!"

"Well, happy birthday!" The two take a drink, clinking their glasses together.

_Don't have a home 'cause I don't pay no bills_  
_Don't pay no bills 'cause nobody pays me_  
_Nobody pays me 'cause I don't go to no work_  
_Don't go to no work and that's just it_

_What can you do? You get what's given to you_  
_Square one, here I come, here I come square one_  
_You get what's given to you_  
_Square one, here I come, here I come square one_

Jade-as-Betty eventually hops down off the stage and finishes the song with a blistering guitar solo that goes over pretty well. The Atomic Bomb Cafe goes nuts before sitting back in their seats. Through some worked-out choreography, Jade-as-Betty twirls up to Robbie-as-Ronald, and takes his drink from him. She swigs it until the glass is empty, and gives out a big, shit-eating grin. So the love story starts.

* * *

Here comes the crux of the play. This is where Ronald Nerdington - college boy and uptight fool - convinces super-cool Betty Bombshell that they're meant to be together forever, despite their differences. This is the song and dance that we couldn't figure out the ending of, the one where I held Jade's hand and danced close to her in front of everyone.

_Oh look at me so ordinary, no mystery, with no great capabilities,  
But I could make out as if I had it but you know,  
God I'm so obvious and I should let it go, oh I don't know._

Seeing Jade dance with Robbie, I smile hard. She looks good. Magnetic, beautiful, and fun. The play is going along swimmingly. It's hard to tell the crowd's reaction just yet, but I'm glad at what's being shown on stage.

_I'm no teenage icon,_  
_I'm no Frankie Avalon,_  
_I'm nobody's hero._

Suddenly the lights begin to flicker. It's kind of hard to notice, enough to see that the audience isn't really registering it, but I see Burf and Sinjin looking worried and beginning to inspect odd parts of their lighting and sound board. I feel tension begin to burble up in my chest, but I try to focus on the play still.

_Reserved and shy, your average guy,_  
_No piercing stare, just out of shape with messy hair,_  
_But I always figured I was somebody in wait,_  
_And now I'm guessing that my moment must be late cause I'm here, oh_

"Tori! Tori!" I hear Trina's voice over the headset, kind of panicked. She's part of the play! She shouldn't be on the headset!

"What is it?"

"We have a problem!" comes Sikowitz' voice.

"What? What?!"

"It's tough to explain!" Sikowitz says again. But now there's kind of the sounds of a struggle. Like the microphones are getting bashed against a wall or something. Feedback plays through the headset, and I see Burf cringe at the sound.

"What's going on down there?!" I demand, thinking about the backstage and side-stages that I can't see.

_I'm no teenage icon,_  
_I'm no Frankie Avalon,_  
_I'm nobody's hero._

"We have an issue!" Sikowitz' voice spits out, and there's more thudding sounds. The lights flicker again.

"Shit!" I curse out. "Sinjin, make sure things are okay on stage!" He gives the affirmative and I yank the headset off, jogging away from the catwalk, through a door, and into the hallways of Hollywood Arts._  
_

_I'm not magnetic or mythical,  
I'm suburban and typical,  
But I got it, I got it  
I'm overrun with it all._

The music and singing is muffled, and the hallways are bright enough to be disorienting. It feels unnatural compared to the darkness of the theater. I rush down some stairs, past the main lobby and my locker, and head down another hallway before bursting into the service tunnel behind the stage. It's concrete and windowless and completely utilitarian and after a few seconds, I'm able to push through the heavy doors to the backstage.

_Seductive charm a way with words so effortless_  
_Not leather clad or dangerous,_  
_But I always did it like a real rebel would,_  
_I had a photo where John Lennon may have stood, or so I'm told._

The lights flicker again, much more noticeable this time, and for a brief moment, the audio of the song cuts out in time with the lights. I grimace at the looks the crowd might be giving. Of the confused and tense look-arounds they're giving the auditorium. Luckily, it doesn't seem to have phased Jade and Robbie and the dancers, as there's no break in anything, from what I can tell.

The cause of it is right in front of me. There's a strained commotion at the very back, with everyone looking on, concerned. Breaking through the crowd, I have to do a double-take.

Clustered around the powerbox - a huge breaker and fuse set that powers the stage lights and the equipment in the play - are the three girls from Northridge who cornered me in the bathroom. They're tussling with Sikowitz, Beck, and Andre, with Trina on the ground looking disoriented and woozy. They strain at the powerbox, attacking it and pulling at things, making the lights flicker as the others try to pull them away from the wires.

Everyone is doing everything in their power to stop them, and the struggle is escalating, a flurry of limbs that tug and pull and wrench around. These girls are desperate to stop the play! The blonde punches Sikowitz in the face and he pretends to ignore it. Beck is getting slapped hard as others try to stop them from messing things up. It's a weird sight.

_I'm no teenage icon,_  
_I'm no Frankie Avalon,_  
_I'm nobody's hero._

I realize that soon enough, the song will be over, and that the music will end, and the fight happening backstage will be audible to the whole crowd if something isn't done. The play would be interrupted! And it was going so well so far! Also, if these girls see Jade, they might do something to her!

Jade. I close my eyes and think about her, ever-so-quickly. About the strength she's given me to go on and do things right. How she's filled me with confidence and pushed me to be a better person in every which way. The love she's given me has added beauty to my every day. How every feeling I've ever had recently is not to ever be taken lightly. She's made me a better person, forced me to confront things I've never thought possible.

Time to repay the favour.

I jump into the fray, yanking at skin and hair and pulling as hard as I can at the three girls. I bite, I bruise them. I seem to be making some kind of headway. They're being pulled away from the box. I punch the blonde in the face, and she goes down. But it hurts my hand badly, too, a vicious stinging pain that shoots up my arm. Various curses are yelled out at me and at the gathered crowd as well. We all lurch and tumble around like a circus or something. Sikowitz finally pulls the girls away from the box and Andre throws his to the ground. Beck and Andre sit on top of the girls.

"Somebody call the cops," Sikowitz says with as much understatement as he's ever given in the history of ever. He grabs some loose extension cords and ties them up so that they don't move or get free. They look like silly cartoon villains. Beck and Andre move away from them, because the song and dance number finishes and it's their turn to be on stage.

We all exchange looks that say that the show must go on, and that we'll all discuss it later. My hand hurts terribly as I run back down the hallways, back to my director's spot. It's puffy, turning blue. I think it might be broken, but things like that aren't to be worried about right now.

I don't get to see Jade as she exits the stage, but I'm sure she's wondering what's up and what's going on. Robbie too would be confused at the sight presented to him. Sikowitz with a darkened face, three girls tied up, the sullen looks of the backstage crew. Something about it seems so silly, but I feel anger and rage at the girls take place. Anger that the play almost got messed up. Desperate confusion.

But I have to flush that all away as I take up my headset again. I still have to be strong. For Jade. For me.

* * *

As the play goes on, the cops and some paramedics arrive. Quietly, luckily enough. I get my hand looked at, and the cute paramedic guy says that it's broken. I get it temporarily bandaged up for me to go get a cast for it later. I don't know what's happened to the Northridge girls, but Sikowitz says through the headset that they're gone and that there's nothing new to worry about. The police will talk to us tomorrow about everything. I begin to worry about Jade and if her little stunt with the scissors will come to light.

But the play keeps going, and it is the most important thing right now. Performance above all, as Helen once said at the beginning of the year during assembly. Jade performs, and I can tell that she's giving it all. Every dance move, every song, every line has a flourish. I wonder if it's just for me. But I don't know. I hope it is. But it takes the performance up a notch, and I find myself drawn to her movements even more than before.

We come to the end of the play. The Atomic Bomb Cafe is being shut down by Trina's character after her husband - Beck's character - has an affair with Lolita Hazmat, played by Cat. Robbie's character gets married to Betty Bombshell, but her cafe is having the big closing night ceremony. Their world is ending. Rock and Roll is being taken away from them.

Jade serenades the fake crowd on stage, moving through it. The dreams and promise of their rock and roll days are dying, and Betty Bombshell is performing a eulogy for the burnouts and lost souls that called the cafe home.

_Aggressively  
__We all defend the role we play  
__Regrettably  
__Time's come to send you on your way  
__We've seen it all  
__Bonfires of trust  
__Flash floods of pain_

Are our rock and roll days dying here at Hollywood Arts? Tough to tell. Graduation is soon, and I can't help but think of it now. I still don't know if I'm taking a year off before university or whatever. I still don't know if I really, really, really want to keep this singing and acting thing up. I barely know what Cat, Andre, Beck, or Robbie are doing either. Not to mention Sikowitz, Trina, Sinjin, Burf, and every single other person I've seen here, ever. Lane. Helen. Dingle.

_It doesn't really matter  
__Don't you worry it'll all work out  
__No it doesn't even matter  
__Don't you worry what it's all about_

The only thing that's constant is Jade. I guess. She's still with Beck, but if I remove the uncertainty from the equation that is our futures, she's all there is. She's spoken of staying in California. We talked super-briefly about anything involving "us". It just seems so big and crazy. Foggy and far away.

_We hope you enjoyed your stay  
It's good to have you with us  
__Even if it's just for the day_

_We hope you enjoyed your stay  
Outside the sun is shining  
__Seems like heaven ain't far away_

And the play ends and the stage lights go down and the curtain closes. I have a lump in my throat. That's it. Everything's done.

Luckily, the crowd seem to have loved the play. They cheer and clap and whistle and stamp their feet. Relief washes over me, sending tingles up my spine. I can't help smiling.

Despite my aching hand. Despite my aching heart.

* * *

We do our bows and waves to the crowd. Jade gets a standing ovation. My parents give me a bouquet of roses. They don't compare to the flowers Jade got me, but I'm still amazed and grateful and happy. Jade doesn't look at me, despite me trying to make serious eye contact. Beck takes her hand during bows and that's all there is to it. I swallow things down and keep going.

The auditorium empties, the crowd filtering out into the night. With the lights on, the place seems weird and...normal. Like it's just another room. There's a long night of thank-yous to give, and I'll be going out for a late dinner with the family. But right now it feels like my time. The quiet time to feel the stress and anxiety just slip out of my shoulders. It doesn't really seem to, though.

Sinjin and Burf, along with their assistants and other members of the backstage crew begin tearing down the set and wrapping up wires and doing all the other things. Beck and Andre - sweaty, tired-looking, but with a happy glow - clap me on the shoulders as they leave, saying they'll be at an all-night coffee shop if I want to meet up with them after my late dinner.

"I'll think about it," I tell them.

Truth is, I'm feeling a massive, bittersweet melancholy. All the hard work, all the drama, and already things are getting torn down and wrapped up. Despite how sad it might make me, how strange it makes me feel, I find myself going backstage. Looking over the cables, over the powerbox where the fight was. Passing by a rack of costumes. Extras walking by me and saying "congrats" as I enter the hallway to the dressing rooms.

The only person in the quiet, shadowy dressing room is Jade. She's still in her costume, leaning against the counter. A wall-length mirror reflects me as I enter, and she looks at me with sullen eyes.

"It's over," is all she says.

"Yeah," is all I can say. The makeup lights buzz, a row of comically big bulbs above the mirror.

"Thank you," she says, and she's looking at me again. "For...just...everything, I guess."

It seems so final, it hurts my heart in ways I've rarely ever felt before. With her little thank you, the night is pretty much over in my mind. The sigh at the end of the day.

"No problem."

I go and sit next to her, leaning against the cool mirror. Jade looks at me, and gasps.

"Your hand!" she exclaims, taking it in hers.

"I forgot about it," I lie. We both look down at it. "It's broken. I have to go get it fixed up."

"Want me to drive you?"

It's a quiet question. Heartfelt, and sad. Like she's already missing me. Like she doesn't ever want to let go.

"I can't. My parents are driving me there and then we're going out to dinner."

Jade doesn't say anything.

"Andre and...Beck are at some coffee shop," I tell her. "You should text them to see where they're at."

"Yeah," she says. It doesn't sound so certain.

We sit together for a little bit longer, enjoying the silence and the solitude and the cool shadows of the hidden-away room. Even though every muscle in my body feels like it weighs a million pounds, I get up. I stand in front of her as she sits on the counter. She rests her head on my chest, and I wrap my arms around her.

"I'll call you tomorrow," I tell her.

"Call me tonight," she demands in her usual Jade tone. It just makes me smile wide. "I have so much shit to tell you."

"Me too."

I kiss her head and go.

* * *

**A/N - Hopefully this lived up to the hype and anticipation! Thank you for all the reviews and follows and love this has gotten so far!**

**Opening Song: "Square One Here I Come" - The Hives**

**Middle Song: "Teenage Icon" - The Vaccines**

**End Song: "Exitlude" - The Killers**


	21. Chapter 21

**JADE**

I broke up with Beck. It didn't go down as easily as I would have liked it to. But Tori and I did it, determined and quickly, like pulling off a band-aid. In his RV. We stood above him, holding hands as he sat on his bed. We explained to him everything about what happened, how it happened, how it affected the both of us.

He stayed silent the whole time, his face an ever-shifting platform of various restrained emotions. After we were done explaining our case and deeply apologizing for what we did, he got up from the bed, and opened the door for us to leave.

There was no yelling. He didn't look at us. Didn't say anything. Tori froze up, and I had to pull her out of the RV in silence.

After that, Beck was frigid cold to us. For the rest of the school year. Everyone seemed okay with Tori and I being together, which was great, but Beck wouldn't eat lunches with us, or hang out as usual. He'd be polite when we'd work together on things in class, but other than that, no one ever really saw him. He only really talked to Robbie, and that was after school or at his new job or whatever. Out of respect for Beck, Robbie wouldn't really discuss anything that Beck was up to, or what he would say about us...or anything for that matter.

It hurt me a lot. The lack of...anything, really. I knew that he was dealing with certain things, and a sense of betrayal, but I didn't want to lose him as a friend, and Tori would moan about it for hours on end. We had a couple of fights about it, but we knew stopped when we realized that in the end, it was out of our control, and there was no amount of meddling or scheming that might help us out.

School ended, the last days being sunny and warm and with clear skies.

Graduation happened. Beck finally gave us something to grasp at. In our robes and hats and after speeches and everything, he came up to me and Tori. He told us he was sorry for being quiet and for his attitude, and for the way he had been treating us.

"I just had to process a lot," he said. "I felt angry, and like shit...but...I didn't want to lose the people...the friends that I love."

It was something. But things weren't too perfect, even after that. Tori and I, and to an extent, a lot of other people, walked on eggshells when Beck started hanging out with us again. Tori and I weren't public with our affection to begin with - cause I hate couples who are like that to begin with anyway! - but when Beck was with us, we cut it down to almost absolute zero.

The real bummer part of the summer came when we all had to testify in court to the various offenses those Northridge super-ganks had put us through. They ended up getting house arrest for it, and in the court they didn't look as badass as they had tried to be in the past. They looked weak and sad and angry. It was also weird to see their parents, and how ashamed they looked for raising girls who were undoubtedly terrible. It was a surreal, tough week for all of us, reliving events and learning about things and going through the ringer in terms of things that bothered us. Even Cat wasn't her usual wide-eyed self while in the courtroom, looking sullen with Robbie's arm around her.

Andre, Beck, Robbie, Sinjin, Trina, Cat, Me, and Tori were all a little shaken up by the trial for reasons we're still trying to process and understand. It was soon after it that we all decided to go on a graduation trip together. Like how I had planned with Beck before the play, and before everything. We crammed into his RV-trailer-thing and headed up to Yosemite, stopping off at the Scissor Tour first.

We camped out under the stars and shared memories and laughs and all that. But it was bittersweet as we headed home, the long drive as silent as anything could ever be. Our group was splitting up, heading in their different directions.

Andre started doing voiceover and music work for commercials and animated movies. Cat and Robbie started a music group together and began touring the country almost immediately. Beck moved to New York to try his hand at Broadway. Sinjin started work at a production company. Trina began looking for acting work, staying close to Sinjin whenever she could.

Tori and I didn't know what to do. Over the summer, she was accepted into university for science. I decided - with much discussion with her - that I'd try for late acceptance, to start in second term in the fine arts department. I got it, and all I had to do was wait. We both decided we needed a trip together before school started, and we put in time at part time jobs. I worked at a coffee place - which I hated, because customers are terrible - and she took a job at a clothing store. We worked long hours, not really seeing much of each other. We decided it was better that way, to make the trip together more special.

Tori picked the place. A little town in Mexico. For two weeks, we'd just relax and be with each other.

* * *

Tori comes up to me, hopping across the beach's sand.

"Ow, ow, ow!" she grimaces with each step, the sand hot on the soles of her feet, before flopping in the chair next to me. She gives me a bottle of water and opens her own.

"Thanks," I tell her. I breath in the salt-tinged air, look out at the ocean in front of me, at how blue it is. How it'll look with the sun setting over it.

Tori's little town was barely the size of Hollywood Arts. There were a couple of small restaurants and a little bodega, but other than that, it was just the beach. We stayed in a room with red tiles on the floor, a small balcony that looked out on to the main street, and stray cats that seemed to lounge everywhere we went.

It was quiet, and I was with Tori, and it was what I needed.

"Should we go to the city tomorrow night?" I ask. We had been tempted by the nightlife of a place nearby, known for its clubs and malls.

"Maybe," she says lazily. "I'm kind of happy here."

"Yeah."

"You're not getting bored, are you?" she asks me, lowering her shades to look me in the eyes.

"Not one little bit," I say with a big, wide, truthful smile.

"Good," she says, resting back into her chair and picking up a book.

I can't stop looking at her in the two piece she has on. Purple like the flowers I got her. The cast gone from her hand. Her firm stomach. Her breasts. Her hair. How good she looks.

"How do I look?" I ask. I have a big floppy sun hat on, and a black bikini. I do a little pose for her, and she grins.

"Like a hundred million dollars," she says. I grin and shoot off my seat, tackling her and tickling her to happy shouts. After a few moments, I smile at her and kiss her softly.

"We should totally go clubbing tomorrow," I tell her. I think about her dancing in my dream and how she danced at that party we went to. "You'll look so hot."

And she laughs and kisses me and shakes her head in disbelief. Honest, happy emotions. It looks good on her, and I'm glad to be a part of it.

**THE END**

* * *

**A/N - Thank you everyone for reading, reviewing, following, liking, etc.! It's been fun to write, fun to tell this story, fun to be on this journey.**


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